


Every Little Bit of You

by paintkettle



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Banter, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Mid-Canon, Minor Original Character(s), Scents & Smells, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-09-28 08:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 33,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10081619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintkettle/pseuds/paintkettle
Summary: Following a meeting with the Police Chief and Mayor, Judy Hopps made a difficult decision about her career.This is a series of studies of principle characters as well as various possible scenes and events within the three months following the Missing Mammals case.





	1. Judy

**Author's Note:**

> This work includes spoilers from the film.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“What happened, Judy?”_
> 
> _“When we spoke last, you said you’d just had your big break,” Bonnie continued. “That case you were on, it was big news, honey. You sounded so happy.”_
> 
> _“Was it that fox?” she asked._

Judy Hopps padded slowly as she drifted away from the imposing spire of City Hall. To her sides, the plaza and mammals gathered there were little more than an uncharacteristic blur in her periphery.

Still in her uniform — she had practically lived in it for the last fortnight — Judy kept low, trying not to attract attention to herself. She put a paw to the place where her badge had been.

Just before, on her way out of the building, Judy had caught the eye of a brown rabbit, mid-thirties, smart-casual. Blue eyes. 

“Officer, please?” the rabbit had asked, padding quickly after her.

“I’m… not an Officer. I can’t help you.” She had held her paws up. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

There was a stinging at the corners of her eyes as she moved along.  _Just dust_ , Judy told herself, quickly wiping them with a sweep of her balled paw.

With delicacy, Judy picked her way through the crowd of larger mammals flocking around the subway entrance and touched-in at the barrier with her travel card. Shimmying through, she furtively kept up with the flow of mammals about her, before scuffing down the paw-polished steps to the platform below, towards the sound of squealing wheels, and quietly into the waiting carriage.

Upon returning to her apartment, Judy rested her shoulders back upon the door. A shrug, and it closed behind her. The throb of the city in her ears quietened as she relaxed back.

Her nose twitched. The scent of the subway still clung to her fur, electricity mingled with smoke and mammal, but it was the scent of the apartment that struck her now. 

The tall, narrow room reeked of her, of her toil and her work and lack of self care. She’d been less inclined in these recent weeks, her work keeping her from her thoughts long enough for her to take little notice of her own steady attrition. It was unbearable now. 

Judy hauled open the sash of the window and stepped back. She worked to slip out of her uniform, pausing to carefully fold it over the back of the chair beside her. Her ears hung down limply as she padded and stared at the gaps between the floorboards beneath her footpaws.

Despite the heaviness of her heart, she felt lighter now in her underclothes, the breeze moving her fur and cooling her skin. She looked up at the water-stained ceiling above her for a moment, mouth pinched tight, nostrils flaring as she breathed, steadily. She swayed slightly, balancing upon the balls of her footpaws, calves trembling.

The air cleared a little through the darkening apartment as she stopped to look at the space that had held the photograph of Judy and her father. She’d begun to take it work with her these last few days, as encouragement to start her patrols, to coax her smile a little when she ended them and returned forlorn to the Precinct.

 _Oh, peas._  she thought.  _I left it there._  She let out a little moan as her shoulders fell.

 

* * *

 

Judy sat in her underclothes upon the cool sheets of her bed, her phone cradled close in the crook of her neck.

“Hi, Bun-bun!” Her mother Bonnie sounded bright and cheery, as she always did.

“Hi, Mom.” Judy’s legs were crossed loosely as she sat up.

“We haven’t heard from you for a while. Everything okay?” Bonnie asked, fishing a little. Even on a voice call and from her daughter’s first two words, she could tell things might not be.

“Oh. I’ve just been busy, Mom.” Judy could hear some of her brothers and sisters in the background. There was a clatter, somewhere.

“I’ll bet —  _Amber, you put that down_  — we all saw you on ZNN. Our little bunny on television! Cotton was beside herself.”

“Oh. Yeah. Heh.” Judy laughed thinly, and didn’t linger. “Listen, Mom, I was thinking. Of… coming home.”

“Oh! Are you on leave? Do they let Officers have leave at times like this? I’d have thought you’d be rushed off your paws,” Bonnie said conversationally. Judy could hear the clinking of pots down the line. She drew a breath, holding it for a moment.

“Judy? Are you there?” Bonnie asked, sensing the quiet on Judy’s side of the call.

Judy’s paw went to her ankle as she drew her legs in. “It’s not leave.” She sucked her lip, working through the confession. “I’m… I’m not an Officer anymore.”

“What happened, Judy?” 

Judy swapped her phone to her other paw.

“I quit, Mom.”

“But, Judy,” Bonnie sounded confused. “You said you’d had your big break,” Bonnie continued. “That case you were on, it was big news, honey. You sounded so happy.”

It was Bonnie’s turn to draw breath now.

“Was it that  _fox_?” she asked. 

“What — “ Judy started, about to scold her mother for making generalisations again before she caught onto what her mother was really asking.

“ _No_ , Mom.” 

Judy sighed heavily. “Nick, he helped on the case, that’s all.” Judy had told her parents a little about Nick, briefly, on the night they’d returned to the Precinct, with the Missing Mammals case cracked. She hadn’t spoken of him again in any of her increasingly infrequent and short calls home. 

“It was nothing like that,” she added, rubbing at an ear-tip with thumb and fore-claw. She could sense her mothers mind going at a mile a minute, even as she tried to set it at ease.

“Besides, I haven’t seen him since,” Judy said.

“I’m sorry, Judy. It’s just, well, you dreamed about being a police officer since you were,  _oh_ , knee-high to a hare. It was all you ever used to talk about.  _Something_  must have happened to make you want to leave?”

“I just realised,” Judy began. “That it wasn’t meant to be.” 

Judy was usually so forthright and rarely shied away from a full account, but her mother knew better than to try and press for one.

“Judy,” Bonnie said. ”You can come home  _anytime_. We’ll be here for you, whenever you’re ready.” Her mother's voice soothed Judy, close to her ear as she tipped her head and drew her shoulders up.

“Thanks, Mom. Say  _hi_  to Dad and the family for me. Tell them I’ll see them, real soon.”

“It’ll take me some time, but I’ll be sure to, Bun-bun.”

Judy smiled a little.

“You be well, okay,” Bonnie added. “Take care. Love you, hon.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

Judy ended the call and rested her head on her paw. She ran her claws through the tufts of her headfur before curling into the sheets.

 

_* * *_

 

 _Officer_  Hopps had been acclimatised to the early shift, so Judy was finding the nights to be thankfully short in her stead.

She was sleeping for long enough to get by, but it hadn’t been  _good_  sleep. Her dreams were filled with details; the conference, those things she’d seen on duty these past days and perhaps worst of all, the look on Nick’s face.

She turned and stretched, unwrapping from the nest of bedclothes about herself. 

Judy washed quickly from the stained basin in her bathroom, scooping the shallow water up in her paws to apply a few cursory splashes where it mattered. As the breeze cooled her skin under dampened fur, Judy moved to close the window against the early morning noises of a waking Zootropolis, the glass panes shuddering a little. She could hear sirens, somewhere off in the distance. 

Judy picked her crumpled lavender t-shirt up of the floor. Sniffing briefly at the musty cotton, scented slightly with a mix of laundry powder and rabbit fur, she pulled it over her ears and worked on stepping into her leggings. A footpaw caught in one leg, sending her off-balance. She skittered and made her frustration known.

It took her a moment to become calm and as she padded in lazy circles around the room, she resolved to set to work.

Judy thought about what to say to her landlady as she sifted through the tenancy papers. There were still  _months_  to go on the agreement, and Judy, in her enthusiasm, hadn’t negotiated a break clause. She could just about cover the next few months rent after her rail fare, but found it hard to consider anything beyond the next hour or so. She decided she’d just say she was going away. Twenty-eight days or longer, this was just statutory notice. She’d be taking some time.

Judy pulled her suitcase from beneath the microwave. She set to empty the laundry hamper, tumbling those few clothes within into rough bundles and stuffing them into the waiting case. She unplugged the microwave and rolled up the power cord, shifted the whole apparatus beneath the table with an easy push.

The welcome mat outside was pulled in and rolled up, propped behind the medium-scale stool that stood in as a table next to the apartment door. She cleared that, then moved onto her desk. The photographs of family and the keepsakes of home were packed carefully on top her clothes. She set to empty drawers of what little contents they had too, without stopping to close them again.

Judy crouched and pulled hard to open that last, stiff drawer beneath the bed —

_Oh._

A lilac cylinder rolled out a slow curve in the emptiness, slowing with a rock-rock-rocking as the contents of it shifted and settled. 

It was a tiny can of Fox-Away repellent, the keep-safe from her parents. She’d taken it just to reassure them, of course, never once thinking she’d need to draw it.

She picked it up and rolled it between her fingers. It was cold to the touch, the vessel taking away the warmth of her paw. She quickly dropped it, letting it roll back into the dark beneath the bed, all too aware now of how repellent she had been, all on her own.

 

* * *

 

Judy wiped a paw across her cheek, before she moved to slide the corner chair neatly back under the desk. Her uniform still hung across the back of it. She hadn’t laundered it, and it still carried the faint scent of the days gone by. Judy knew it belonged here.

One last look at the apartment, as spartan now as she’d found it, and she closed her eyes briefly. Her nose twitched as she caught those remnants of her scent on the bed, and on the walls, and that uniform, mingling with the mustiness of the rest of the old building. She was becoming almost imperceptible now.

Clutching her suitcase and umbrella in one paw, Judy took a step back. Quietly, she crossed the threshold and without lingering she pulled the door closed silently behind her. 

Not even her arguing neighbours made a sound as the floorboards creaked softly beneath her footpaws. She made her way to the street and the subway beyond.

Moving through Savannah Central Station itself, there were far more ZTP Officers here than her home station. They stood strategically in their high-vis jackets, staring impassively across the crowds. They were all heavy-set species, but not a single predator was among them. As she bought her ticket, Judy saw a lithe cheetah being given a pat-down near the barriers. One of the attending Officers, a caribou, had a hoof resting upon their dart gun. Trigger-ready, Judy noticed.

The journey back to Bunnyburrow was short. Return journeys always were, but Judy had spent it burrowed deep into her seat. She’d been facing the direction of travel, and had only once turned to look back at Zootropolis, receding under a leaden sky. As she watched the Bunnyburrow station slow into view, that too seemed dark, the colours painted upon the shingled walls of the station-house drab.

Judy gently padded onto the platform, a few other mammals disembarking around her. She’d expected to see her whole family perhaps, crowded onto that small platform but as she cast her eyes to look for them she could only see her mother and father.

“Hi, Mom, Dad,” Judy said quietly, her eyes low. Her father, Stu looked at his daughter with her sallow fur and limp ears.

“Jude,” he began.

Judy dropped her suitcase and ran forward to bury her face in his shoulder. Bonnie closed the circle about them and Judy breathed deeply between sobs, taking in the scent of earth and fur, rabbits and family.

It was going to be difficult to move forward, Judy knew. She’d need encouragement now, and she tightened her hold because when it came to it she knew, in a single word or gesture, she could find it right here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> So, while I should be working on plotting out the next parts of All the Colours Between Us, of course, I naturally chose to begin another project. 
> 
> Whilst I’m happy with the way Twenty Four Redwood Heights turned out, there’s a lot of things I wish I’d taken more time on, especially in setups and future plot points, so I thought a little exercise in structure might help. I also wanted to try writing something with characters I've not written for yet.
> 
> It might be divergent from canon a little, and I'm only guessing that Judy might have mentioned the Missing Mammals case to her parents at some point between her success and resignation.
> 
> Although I’ve already written some mid-canon works, I’m going to carry on with this as an anthology because I’m interested in doing a similar exercise for each of the principle characters, interlinked by Judy’s resignation.
> 
> It's currently a bit of a side-project at the moment as there’s that matter of the next part of Colours.


	2. Nick, Finnick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Ha! You need to listen up, Wilde. You need to hear some of the things being said about you.”_
> 
> _“You know I don’t listen to reviews, but enlighten me, Finn.”_

“Thank you, sir. You’ve helped me out of a real fix here.”

Nick settled his head onto his shoulders and looked up at the roebuck. The sun wasn’t harsh, but the brightness through the canopy of the bus shelter still made his eyes water a little. He held out his paw agreeably all the same, ears neutral and tail straight.

“Uh, no problem,” said the roebuck distantly, tucking away his money-belt. Tentatively, he offered his own hoof.

Nick wrapped his paw around it as best he could and shook it firmly. He smiled reassuringly, folding the bill he’d been given by the roebuck. About to slip it onto his pocket, he paused. “You don’t want me to get you some change? This is a twenty, you know.”

“No, you keep it,” said the roebuck, eyes on the shelter’s arrival board, refreshing line by line. His ears flicked to catch the sound of the approaching bus. Taking a step back, he hitched his rucksack a little more upon his shoulder and clasped his guidebook tightly. “You’ve got to get home too, and well, if you don’t mind me saying, cabs seem real pricey here.”

Nick nodded.

“If you have any change left out of that, buy your son something nice, huh? For having to wait?” the roebuck suggested.

“A fine idea, sir,” said Nick, and with a smile, “Maybe a pawpsicle.”

The roebuck raised his eyebrows. “Sure, why not? Listen, I don’t mean to be rude but…”

“Oh, is this one yours?” Nick pointed a claw at the approaching bus, and helpfully raised a firm paw to make sure the driver had seen them. The roebuck nodded thankfully as the bus signalled and eased in to the stop. 

“Zootropolis buses,” Nick shrugged. “They’ll drive on right by you if you let them.” Nick waved him forward towards the door as it popped open.

“Thanks again.” Nick tapped his pocket. “Enjoy your stay — you take care now.” He pointed a finger-pistol as he turned away, leaving the roebuck to trot aboard the bus, fumbling for his travel pass as he went.

Nick began to move briskly down the street, towards the intersection. A quick glance back over his shoulder, and sure now the roebuck was on the bus and well on his own way, Nick continued on.

It was a simple routine, one he’d well practiced. A phone-call within earshot about a frozen payment card.  _I remember when you used to be able to just speak to a mammal_ , then  _wouldn’t you know it_ , the battery on the phone runs out.  _These things never hold their charge_ , he’d say. No cash either, he was just trying to get some from the ATM, ready to pick up his son waiting for his father after soccer practice. And if the weather was right,  _it looks like rain, don’t you think?_

_Say, could you spare a few bucks for a phonecall and cab fare?_

It worked best on the tourists. Today he’d been lucky to find one because, despite repeated assurances by the newly appointed Mayor that it was  _in fact_  business as usual in Zootropolis, mammals were staying away in droves and the usual summer tourism influx was woefully thin. 

Sure, he’d get some looks when he started the routine. He was a fox and he was well used to that. But if it got difficult, he’d bring out the photos.

He and Finnick had taken them in a self-serve booth at the pharmacy on Pack Street. They’d bundled in and set to work, changing Finnick’s costume as fast as they could before the next flash went off. It was five for five, and very soon, they had a story to sell for most occasions. 

The darnedest thing was those pictures  _really_  sold it. Those eyes. Mammals were a sucker for them.

With a quick sidestep, Nick started down the narrow and shaded service alley, working south and away from the busy Savannah. He scanned cautiously into the distance. The alley smelt of refuse and air conditioner exhausts.

His brow fell, and he rolled his lips over his teeth. His self-satisfied grin reduced to a thin, tight line.

 

* * *

 

A bell rang out across the crowd.

The tiger leaning on the counter flicked an ear and folded over a page corner on the book he was studying. There was a noisy jostle of plates above as he moved around the small red fox and smaller fennec towards the waiting tables of the diner. Nick stepped back and pulled his tail aside as the tiger strode past with claws clicking upon the tiled floor and plates balanced on paws and forearms. The noise of customers and after-work chatter filled and reverberating around the dim brown interior.

“Huh, Busy tonight, Finn,” Nick observed, batting his paws against two bar seats he'd just spotted being recently vacated, spinning them down to a height that better accommodated the pair of foxes. The screw-threads squealed.

Finnick, it seemed, was preoccupied with the arctic fox vixen a few seats away, her short summer coat matching the dark wood panelling behind her. Nick clicked his pads with an abrupt snap. He motioned his head towards the seats as Finnick frowned up at him.

“Need a boost, big guy?” Nick grinned, holding up outstretched paws as if to grab the smaller fox and hoist him up like a kit.

Finnick snarled. “Don’t.”

“Just trying to be helpful,” Nick said, as he brought his paws together to make a step at his knees. Finnick hopped briskly on, and Nick lifted him awkwardly. “It’s the little things, Finn,” he added, making the fennec scrabble the last few inches into place, before hoisting himself deftly up to his seat alongside.

“So what’s to be?” Nick asked, placing his paws on the counter.

“You even have to ask,” Finnick rumbled, shaking his head.

Nick grinned. ”You know I can’t afford the free-range ones, right?”

Finnick shrugged. “Pff. Fine, Nick. Bugs are bugs.”

With a flourish, Nick produced a crisp twenty and held it to attract the attention of the aardwolf on the upper level of the bar. The aardwolf slid down a little stepladder and pushed it away along the brass rail that edged the highest counter. 

“What can I get you, friend?” he asked, leaning over to the waiting foxes with his check-pad.

Nick eagerly ordered two specials, off menu. “The Works,” he said, eyes widening.

“Insect, or mushroom,” asked the aardwolf. His ears quivered as the fennec barely cresting the bar growled quietly.

“Insect, please,” said Nick. He looked across to Finn. “Crickets, if you’ve got them?” asked Nick. Finnick nodded approvingly.

“Sure. With you as soon as we can.” The aardwolf scrawled a note on his check-pad and padded briskly over to a small kitchen hatch. The smell of heat and oil mingled stickily with the heady summer scents of the diner’s clientele.

The red fox and fennec sat for a moment. Nick rubbed at the back of his paw.

“So, Nicky-nick. You’ve been  _quiet_  lately,” said Finnick, finally.

“Just keeping my ear to the ground, Finn.” Nick took in the crowd around him.

“You heard about Manny, then?” Finnick asked.

Nick huffed. “Yeah. He was lifting cables again. Easy scrap money, no questions, sure, but when you black out a whole block, that tends to get you noticed.” Nick shook his head. “Manny,” he said. “ _Dumb_.”

“Got dropped by a bunch of prey cops as soon as they arrived.” said Finnick, quietly. ”They have darts now, you know?” he added.

“I hadn’t heard that.” Nick’s ear twitched. 

“Ha! You need to listen up, Wilde. You need to hear some of the things being said about  _you_.”

“You know I don’t listen to reviews,” Nick grinned thinly. “But enlighten me, Finn.”

“Everyone says you’ve been working for the cops,” Finnick glowered, disapprovingly.

“Well, you knew that anyway, so I figured that snippet would be old news in no time. You were right there, remember? Before you, uh, walked off.” Nick began to slide his paws together. ”Thanks for that, by the way. Very supportive.” Nick tapped a claw lightly on the counter.

Finn raised his eyebrows. “You were working with a rabbit. She strung you along, had you dancing all the way round the Districts.” 

“Hm.” Nick shrugged impassively. “Again, old news. Besides. I don’t know so much about being  _strung along_. It was more of a  _consultant_ role.”

“You walked out though, right? Word is, you  _threatened_  her. Threatening a cop, Nick,” Finnick shook his head. “Now  _that’s_  dumb.”

Nick's paws were fully together now, clasped between him and the fennec across the counter. Nick said nothing as he glared, but despite this his ears had angled somewhat to the sides. His tail had stiffened, bristling.

“ _Oh_. So,  _that’s_  what’s been eating you,” Finnick said.

Nick rolled his eyes and took a short breath. “Look, can’t we just enjoy this meal — maybe catch up on old times? Think about the new? I had some ideas for next steps in the,  _ahem_ , business, y’know.”

Finnick leaned over, his paw on the counter to steady himself. “Next steps? C’mon, Wilde. You’re not going to get anywhere if you still have that rabbit pulling on your tail.”

Nick winced.

The service bell rang.

“Two specials,” the aardwolf announced, sliding out two steaming plates of fries. The crickets were crispy, still popping from their time in the frier and the whole plate was glazed by a dark gravy. “The Works. Enjoy.” Nick’s ears rose at the sight it and his eyes brightened a little.

“I’ve paid for these, Finn, don’t make me lose my appetite,” Nick warned, as he picked the wooden fork stood in mess of food on his plate.

“All I’m saying is, don’t let this end up like last time,” Finnick said, greedily snapping at a dripping fork-load of potato and cricket.

Nick chewed his own mouthful, slowly and thoughtfully. “That was different, Finn.”

“You say that, but it doesn’t look that different from here, Nick.” Finnick cleared a corner of his plate. “You’re mooning around just the same,” he added, smacking his lips. He pointed a claw at Nick’s chest. “Heart all busted up.” Finnick shovelled away another mouthful.

“Finn.”

“Mf. I’ll bet you’re hanging out under that bridge again, too—“

“ _Finn_ , don’t—” Nick’s eyes were sharp now as he turned quickly to his companion. “Talk with your mouth full,” he breathed, letting go of the edge of the counter.

“It’s different,” Nick muttered.

“Well, I guess you’re right, Nick.” Finnick was nearly finished with his plate. “This time, she’s a  _rabbit_.” He shrugged as his fork hit the empty plate. ”How did you think  _that_  was going to work?”

“ _Ugh_ , will you,” Nick spluttered. 

“There was none of —“ He held his paws up, unsure of what to do with them. He gathered his lips tight for a moment, ”— _that_ ,” he added finally.

“There couldn’t be any of  _that_.” Nick said quietly, his brow creased by his arched eyebrows. Finnick blinked.

“Look, you want the facts? Fine. After we both found out what was going on at that, what — asylum? Hospital? — whatever,” Nick shrugged. “She asked me to join up.  _Actually_ join the police, as her partner. A fox in blue,” he laughed. “Can you believe that, Finn?”

Nick paused as he stared at Finnick for a moment.

_Stop me talking, Finn._

“Well,  _I_  believed her,” his muzzle began to wrinkle. Finnick could see a flash of tooth and of gum, but sat resolute as Nick continued to fill the silence.

“But, she went up on her ZPD podium right in front of all those cameras and said the same things about predators _we’ve_ heard all our lives.”

_Please, stop me._

Nick stood his wooden fork up in his food. “It was  _on the record_ , Finn.”

_Ugh._

“Then, she acts like the words don’t apply to me.” Nick waved a paw, dismissively. ”Like that might absolve her somehow, taking me out of one of her convenient little boxes.”

Nick put his paws on the counter, edge on, claws splayed, his eyes elsewhere for a moment before he could gather his thoughts.

“And, when I ask her in what  _mad world_  she thinks she can just walk around and say those kind of things,” Nick took a breath turning finally to Finn, to fix his eyes with his own. “Then —  _then_ , she goes to draw  _fox repellant_  on me.”

The service bell rang again, and the tiger lifted his eyes from his book once more.

“So. It is  _different_ ,” Nick said firmly, paws flat in mid-air, his pads down between him and the little fennec. The two foxes looked unblinkingly at each other, Nick’s eyes were sharp. Finnick’s dark brow suddenly lifted as he took in the entirety of the fox sat opposite, from ears to claw-tips.

Nick breathed deeply. The sound of the diner came flooding back to him and he hitched an elbow up on the counter to rest his head against the heel of his paw. He dug around on his plate and after a moment, resumed forking food into his mouth, his breath whistling through his nose as he chewed.

 

* * *

 

Nick padded silently through the scrubby grass, cool to the touch under his footpaws as they kicked through the fresh forming dew. He bent to dampen his paws in it, smoothing them across his brow, his ears.

As he crested the little hillock, the panes of glass in the warehouse ahead shone, filled with the flare and dazzle of the city behind him. Here and there, panes had been taken out, broken perhaps, showing up only the darkness. He ducked and twisted smoothy through the narrow gap in the chain-link fence dropping down from the verge onto the roadway. The gravel crunched softly.

Nick walked on a little way, counting his steps, counting down as he went, but it was more a habit because he could see the path that would lead him downward with perfect clarify in the starlight. The incline behind him began to clip away the whir and whisper of the city as he followed it.

He came to a gully, one that channeled the rain down from somewhere higher up in the park, Nick could pick out beyond the wire fence desiccated trolleys and block-work littering the floor, waiting for the autumn rains to wash around them.

A tapered orange tube with a spray of cheap green plastic on top — her carrot-shaped pen — was in his paw. He turned the pen over, feeling how light it was. He’d erased the audio a long time ago and he knew if it landed down there, in that gully, he might never find it again. It was small and her scent was long gone.

As Nick tensed his arm, for a moment he saw the moon, the thinest sliver, a bright fringe resting clear above the willow trees and hanging like a little lopsided smile in the night sky.

Afterwards, Nick had walked for a long time, it seemed to him, and found himself at the bridge. He passed the worn advisory sign, placed up there for goods vehicles with limited clearance and weight limits. Nick had never seen as much as a single car pass by.

Nick looked at the things strewn there in the scuffed grass and dried dirt. The cool-box, a basket, some newspapers. With a sigh, he pulled the grubby camping chair up from the ground where he’d tipped and left it. Dragging it back towards the archway, he sat back carefully, the webbing creaking and shifting beneath him. Then, it was quiet, nothing but the sound of his breath and the night.

Carefully, he took out the carrot-shaped pen from his shirt and turned it over in his paws once more. He’d tried to let it go. Tonight, last night, so many nights before. It should have been easy. It was such a small thing.

It reminded him always of her thoughtless words, but alongside he still recalled the way Judy had looked at  _all of him_  with those earnest eyes, as she smiled her lopsided smile and passed that pen to him like it was something he’d been missing for the longest time. Wherever she might be now, he thought, she might come to realise it was something she been missing too.

He huffed a wry breath.  _Maybe_.

With a rumble in his chest, he tucked the pen back into his shirt and curled tight on the chair, making himself small. He pulled his footpaws up from the ground and wrapped his tail about himself to keep the cool night out. The breeze shifted the trees. 

As he sat huddled by the dark bridge, his steady eyes glinted in the starlight. In the silence, it was the only sign that anybody was even there at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lost count of how many alternative drafts I worked on for this chapter.
> 
> Nick kept drifting right out of character and waxing lyrical every time. Finnick was a late addition I hadn't really considered, but I'm glad he found a place in the end.
> 
> What's next? I think there's likely another chapter for Judy between her arrival and taking her job at the family farm shop, and I'm considering something for Bogo and Bellwether, but I'm not sure of the order as yet.
> 
> Also, to clarify the timeline in case it wasn't apparent, I've set this work notionally towards the end of the three months apart.


	3. Bogo, Clawhauser

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter occurs prior to Judy’s meeting with Chief Bogo and Mayor Bellwether at City Hall.

“Mayor Bellwether, I  _realise_  that tensions in the city are high, but do you really think—” Police Chief Bogo hung his mouth open mid sentence as the Mayor’s tiny voice cut across him. He tightened his grip on the telephone handset, waited patiently, heard a gap, and began to manoeuvre.

“No, of course not, Mayor Bellwether, but—”

He turned sharply on his hoof, pacing around the front of his desk, returning to stare blankly at the map hung on the wall as he listened to the Mayor’s ever-bright voice. Once, that map of the city districts had been covered with the faces of the missing, but now it was stippled with coloured pins. There was no discernible pattern, but each denoted various incidents and their severity, around the city.

“Mayor Bellwether, with  _respect_ ,” he began, tracing the arched line of his eyebrow with his hoof. “It’s not  _just_  a case of removing ten percent of my officers from active front-line duty. That ten percent makes up  _sixty percent_ of my resources.” 

The ongoing internal reassignments were hard enough, but they were little changes here and there. Now, it seemed, the Mayor was asking him to reassess his  _entire_ Department. His shoulders rose as he took another breath, but the Mayor, hearing the pause had cut across him, persistently reminding him of his obligations to protect the city and serve it’s needs.

“I understand your concerns about these otherwise planned protests getting out of hand—” 

As he waited again, Bogo’s eye was drawn to the rash of red and yellow pins driven into the recent and entirely unofficial no-mammals land between Pack Street and Herd Street. “Hm. That  _was_  an unfortunate escalation by certain elements, I agree, but I assure you  _all_ my Officers regularly undergo full atavistic evaluations, as per current regulation.”

He shifted his head back and stared at the ceiling. Bogo’s free ear flicked in irritation as he turned to the centre of his office.

“Mayor Bellwether, of  _course_ , but I would at least like to meet and discuss with you how to roll these changes out,” he said, folding an arm tightly behind his back. ”It will take  _months_  to fill the ranks with enough recruits to compensate for these reassignments. Even with the potential increase in candidates thanks to the Mammal Inclusion Initiative, given the current situation, attracting recruits with the required skills for city policing will be  _challenging_ , to say the very least.”

He rose on his hooves as the Mayor continued to press him, interjecting again in that calm little singsong voice of hers, dodging and weaving around his push-backs and negotiations. 

He finally conceded. “I’m open to suggestions, Mayor Bellwether.”

Bogo’s brow furrowed. “A Departmental spokesmammal?” he asked, head to one side. His eyebrows raised sharply when Mayor Bellwether told him the name of the mammal she had in mind.

 

* * *

 

“Top of her class, Chief Bogo,” Mayor Lionheart said. “This will be good for me. Well,  _you too_ , in fact,” he added, with a sweep of his paw. “It’s not just about progress in the polls, you know. Think about how this will improve your Department’s image.”

“Mayor Lionheart, there is nothing wrong with my Department’s image,” Chief Bogo levelled his gaze at the Mayor, sat opposite him across the desk. He watching with irritation as the lion idly picked stray fur from the shoulders of his suit.

Mayor Lionheart raised an eyebrow as he examined a strand pinched in his claws. “Chief Bogo, most of your Officers are predators, and those that aren’t are megafauna. Citizens thinking the police sit around all day drinking coffee and eating donuts is  _enough_  of a stereotype, without giving them further cause, don’t you think?”

Bogo shifted uneasily, readying another protest. “Mayor Lionheart, policing the city is no job for—“

Mayor Lionheart raised a paw. “The Mammal Inclusion Initiative is as important in encouraging diversity here in the city as it is in securing my next term in office,” Lionheart proclaimed. 

Bogo’s lips whitened. Lionheart continued. “I want to encourage everyone — citizen  _and_ civil authority — to step up and support it.  _Including_  the ZPD.” There was a hint of a growl in the lions voice.

“Which is why,” Lionheart pushed a copy of the  _Zootropolis Times_  over the desk towards Bogo. “I’m assigning her to Precinct One. To you, Chief Bogo.” 

Bogo looked down. The paper was opened to show a half-page photograph of the Zootropolis Police Academy’s first rabbit graduate, pulled tight in the frame next to the Mayor. “What better place for change?”, grinned the lion.

_Officer Judith Laverne Hopps._

Bogo blinked. He glared at the rabbit’s awkward toothy grin and those wide, naive eyes staring up at him from the page. Her official Academy graduation photograph had appeared in the  _ZPD Gazette_  earlier that week, somewhere near the back, and although he hadn’t paid much attention to it at the time, there was no forgetting that smile and earnest expression.

“Anyone can be  _anything_ , Chief Bogo. Remember?” Lionheart grinned as he leant back in his chair, paws resting behind his head. “It’s done,” he shrugged. “I know you’ll make it work.”

 

* * *

 

Bogo’s lips rolled over his teeth as he considered Mayor Bellwether’s suggestion.

 _Hopps_. 

From the first roll-call, she’d tried to wheedle a better assignment out of him.  _On her first day_. His nostrils flared. A real pain in the tail, and a try-hard he thought would wash out on her little forty-eight hour grace period and he’d relieve her of both her badge and her job.

Done.

But to his later surprise, Hopps had worked tirelessly to follow leads that had eluded his best detectives, and uncovered one of the greatest mammal rights scandals to have occurred in many decades. All with barely a single resource, save her wits and a  _fox_  she’d somehow managed to convince to help alongside. 

She’d gone on to become a hero in the eyes of many. But mammals had also begun to look to her for consolation because, like it or not, Hopps had uncovered something far more troubling. These random acts of savagery struck at any time, and now, mammals like her were looking to, well, mammals  _like her_  to step up and keep them safe from what was happening out there, pin after coloured pin.

“I’m aware of her record,” he said, flatly. The position of spokesmammal would require a certain  _finesse_. His snout wrinkled as he recalled Hopps’ blunt words at the press conference he’d arranged some weeks earlier. Hopps had put a number of muzzles out of joint at the ZPD with her words and, regrettably, a few Officers had quietly but formally requested reassignment, rather than work with the rabbit.

“Her media training does leave rather a lot to be desired,” The buffalo shifted his weight from one hoof to the next. 

“I understand you appreciate her frankness regarding the situation, Mayor Bellwether, but, with the utmost respect, I would rather not have Hopps indulge the current media frenzy any further without some proper preparation on her part.”

Bogo crossed over to his desk and began sifting through a number of personnel files ready for appraisals, transfers, and re-assignment. His ear twitched as he glanced over them. “And if I may add to your suggestion, as Hopps has very much become the poster-mammal for the Mammal Inclusion Initiative, perhaps she can assist in engaging with the recruits. Perhaps address the latest intake?“

“I’m glad you think so, Mayor Bellwether,” he said, looking back at the pins dotted about the city map. His ears perked a little. “Very well. I will inform her of our decision. I’m sure she will relish the chance to prove herself once again.”

From a nearby in-tray, Bogo retrieved a particularly thin one and placed it on top of the gathered pile for a moment. 

_Officer Hopps, J. L._

“I agree. It is unfortunate that Hopps wasn’t able uncover the cause of the savagery. We’ve never seen anything like this.”

He’d heard stories though. The grizzled veterans of the force, old and weary detectives and uniforms, all of whom had been pounding the streets while Bogo was still dealing with the Ice Wall at the Academy had told him in hushed growls that  _this is just like_  Kodiak _, Chief._

“Not as yet.” Bogo said. “Throughout her interrogation, Madge Honey Badger maintained that despite her examinations, she had no conclusive diagnosis.”

Bogo frowned.

“No, Mayor Bellwether. I would have to defer to the medical council on that matter. Madge Honey Badger was struck off and her research confiscated on ethical grounds.”

“Very well,” he said.

“I will continue with the reassignments you have suggested, but I cannot let it jeopardise the Department’s ability to do its job. I suggest we discuss the front-line issues further at our next strategic meeting.”

“Of course, as investigations continue,” he added. 

“Thank you, Mayor Bellwether.” There was a click, and with a sigh, Bogo dropped the phone handset back onto its cradle. He rolled his head upon his neck.

 

* * *

 

“Chief, you wanted to see me?” Officer Clawhauser stood with his balled paw resting lightly against the glass of the open door where he’d knocked. There was a slight dusting of sugar upon his right epaulette. 

The afternoon sun filtered through the shuttered blinds at the back wall of Chief Bogo’s office. The buffalo, almost in silhouette, pushed a red pin into the city map, near Glacier Bay, and grunted as he turned to peer over the rim of his glasses.

“Officer Clawhauser,” Chief Bogo said, impassively.

“Chief Bogo,” Clawhauser laughed nervously, his ears back. He had the look of a scolded kit as he rubbed a paw slowly across the back of his head.

Bogo breathed deeply. “Come in, close the door.”

Clawhauser took two steps across the threshold before he broke. “Oh, Chief! Is this about the mess in the break room?” he blurted suddenly, wringing his paws.

”I’m  _really_  sorry, sir. I don’t know what started it, and I certainly didn’t realise it was going to turn into an  _actual_  bun fight, sir, and well, Fangmeyer has been so  _touchy_  ever since—”

Bogo raised a hoof to stop Clawhauser, who was wringing his paws so tightly now that Bogo was unsure if the cheetah would be able to untangle them. 

“I appreciate my Officers need to let off some steam, and that is better done in here than out there.” Bogo indicated to the shuttered window with a horn. “I’d prefer it if such activity didn’t involve quite so much pastry, however.”

Clawhauser loosened a little. “Oh, of  _course_ , Chief.” A smile of relief perked across his muzzle. 

Bogo, however, remained stoic as he crossed to his desk. He removed his spectacles carefully and looked at the cheetah for a moment, before extending a hoof towards the chair facing his desk. 

“This is to discuss another matter. Please, close the door, Clawhauser. Take a seat.”

Clawhauser hesitated, before softly pushing the door closed behind him and padding further into the dim room, his tail low and stiff. The trilling of phones and murmur of mammals grew quiet outside as he rolled up onto the seat. He tried to make himself comfortable despite the creaking beneath him, and set his expectant eyes upon Bogo. “If it’s not the break-room, then what is it, sir?”

Bogo sat carefully. “Clawhauser, I’m sure you’re aware of the public difficulties the Department is facing,” he said, stiffly.

The cheetah nervously flicked his tail. “I am, sir, I am. You know, there was that incident earlier in the week. Mrs. Wheber from Okapi Gardens came in  _again_  to report those wolves she keeps saying are disturbing the peace. You remember Ms. Wheber, right, sir?”

Bogo moved his head slightly. “I do,” he agreed, solemnly.

 _Ms. Wheber_.

Ms. Wheber was a particularly forthright member of the Gardens’ Neighbourhood Watch scheme, and took a dim view of a number of her fellow residents from behind ever-twitching curtains. So much as a claw or hoof over the klipspringer’s somewhat rigid sand-lines of acceptable behaviour would bring her to the ZPD front desk with a litany of complaints.

“She was in a rush, as usual, sir, you know, but she refused to let me deal with her, even thought there was no-one else on the desk, and when I tried to file her complaints, because she was in such a rush, well,” Clawhauser clasped his paws tightly together once again, and flinchingly, he looked away. “The things she said, Chief.”

“Yes. Well. She was issued a public order citation in that regard, and I imagine the Gardens Watch quorum will take their own action.” Bogo drew a long breath. “But, Clawhauser, I’m afraid the Mayor has asked me to make some difficult decisions about my Officers and their duties at the present time. This includes your position at the front desk, which I’m afraid to say the Department has had to reconsider.”

“I mean, I enjoy dealing with the public, Chief, you know,” Clawhauser continued blithely before looking up and wondering why the Chief was looking far sterner than usual of a sudden. “But sometimes,  _phew_ , Ms. Wheber—” He started to laugh but stopped himself short. His ears flattened as he suddenly gathered himself up. 

“Wait, Chief?”, he asked, his puzzled brow furrowing. “Reconsider? Are  _you_ …”

“You’re being reassigned,” Bogo said. “To Records. Effective immediately,” he added.

“Rec _ords_?” Clawhausers expression changed from puzzlement, to hurt, to denial and to confusion in rapid succession, his eyes flicking and suddenly glassy. “ _In the basement_?” he added, his voice tightening almost to a squeak.

“Please, Clawhauser. The mayor feels that now, more then ever, we need to ensure the public feel they can approach the ZPD with  _whatever_  is concerning them. And right now, what appears to be concerning them are  _predators_.”

Silence. Clawhauser’s chair creaked. He breathed heavily now, unable to meet Bogo’s eyes. 

Bogo pushed back his chair and rose to his hooves, crossing to the front of his desk. “I’m sure you’ll give Records your best and fullest of attentions, Clawhauser,” he said, finally. 

Clawhauser gathered himself up straight once more as he dropped from the chair. “I will, sir,” he quavered, before his lips suddenly pinched tight.

“Dismissed, Officer Clawhauser,” Bogo stiffened.

Clawhauser raised his paw to salute as if it really  _was_  the longest way up, which Bogo briskly returned. As the cheetah padded for the door he paused for a moment at the opened threshold, as if about to say something. But, whatever he had in mind, he kept to himself as he slipped away and pulled the door shut as he left. 

Bogo watched Clawhauser’s silhouette shift behind the privacy glass, first one way, then the other, before moving away down the corridor.

He took his seat once more to scribble the date, time and his signature next to the Department’s re-assignment list and placed a file marked  _Officer Clawhauser, B._  to one side. Bogo leant forward with his hooves clasped upon the desk and found himself thinking for a moment about how the spark in Clawhauser’s eyes had slowly gone out when realised what he was being asked to give up. 

Chief Bogo had lost good Officers in many ways. Some were heroic, some were careless, and some were senseless. Some ways were filled with happiness for all that had been accomplished, and some were leaden with sadness and all that was left undone. 

But to lose a good Officer little by little like this?

He was about to move on to the next personnel file when the desk-phone chirruped.  _Office of the Mayor_ , read the caller display.

Bogo’s ear twitched with each insistent warble until her finally picked up the handset, and took a breath as he held the line.

“Mayor Bellwether,” he said, pleasantly, trying not to grit his teeth as she began to speak. Bogo’s jaw worked as he listened, waiting.

“Very well,” he said. “Hopps and I will be with you presently.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s becoming a bit of a theme for these pieces to change tack completely as soon as I start the run-up to post. All week, I had been working on this as a piece with Bogo and Judy, until I remembered that had been covered in the film, and also to an extent in the first chapter of this work. 
> 
> Whilst it’s not clear in the film who told Clawhauser he was to be moved to Records, I thought if anyone was to break the news to him, it might be Chief Bogo.
> 
> I hope my seat-of-the-pants changes were for the better, and you enjoyed reading this chapter.
> 
> The implied side of Bogo’s telephone calls give some coverage to Bellwether but I think for completeness she should feature in this work. I’m still planning to cover a little bit of Judy’s time in Bunnyburrow.


	4. Bogo, Clawhauser (revision)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a reworking of the previous chapter based on feedback and contains some reused content. The timeline is perhaps three to four days before, and then directly after Judy's meeting with Chief Bogo and Mayor Bellwether.

“Mayor Bellwether, I  _realise_  that tensions in the city are high, but do you really think—” Police Chief Bogo hung his mouth open mid sentence as the Mayor’s tiny voice cut across him. He tightened his grip on the telephone handset, waited patiently, heard a gap, and began to manoeuvre.

“No, of course not, Mayor Bellwether, but—”

He turned sharply on his hoof, pacing around the front of his desk, returning to stare at the map hung on the wall as he listened to the Mayor’s ever-bright voice. 

Once, that map of the city districts had been covered with the faces of the missing, but now it was stippled with coloured pins. There was no discernible pattern, but each carefully denoted various incidents and their severity, around the city.

“Mayor Bellwether, with  _respect_ ,” he began, tracing the arched line of his eyebrow with his hoof. “ It’s not, as you say,  _just_  removing ten percent of my officers from active front-line duty. That ten percent also happens to makes up over  _sixty percent_  of my resources, and they are good officers that the city needs. It’s untenable, not to mention—”

His shoulders rose as he took another breath, but the Mayor, hearing the pause had cut across him, persistently reminding him of his obligations to protect the city and serve it’s needs.

“I understand your concerns about the protests getting out of hand—” 

As he waited again, Bogo’s eye was drawn to the rash of red and yellow pins driven into the recent and entirely unofficial no-mammals land between Pack Street and Herd Street. “Hm. That  _was_  an unfortunate escalation, I agree.”

“But let me I assure you that each and  _every one_  of my Officers regularly undergo full atavistic evaluations, as per current regulation. No-one has—”

He shifted his head back and stared at the ceiling. Bogo’s free ear flicked in irritation as he turned to the centre of his office.

“Mayor Bellwether, of  _course_ , I understand, but,” he said, folding an arm tightly behind his back. “I can’t stress enough the damage it would do to morale, and to the Department. I’m sorry, Madam Mayor, but until an Officer fails an assessment, I’m not prepared to recommend—“

“Even The Mammal Inclusion Initiative, Madam Mayor, attracting recruits with the required skills for city policing will be  _challenging_ , to say the very least. Perhaps CSO roles would—”

He rose on his hooves as the Mayor continued to press him, interjecting again in that calm little singsong voice of hers, dodging and weaving around his push-backs and negotiations. 

“Well, quite. She has proven to be the current exception, Madam Mayor.”

Bogo’s brow furrowed. “You’d like her to be  _what?_ ” he asked.

 

* * *

 

“Top of her class, Chief Bogo,” Mayor Lionheart said. “This will be good for me. Well,  _you too_ , in fact,” he added, with a sweep of his paw. “It’s not just about progress in the polls, you know. Think about how this will improve your Department’s image.”

“Mayor Lionheart, there is nothing wrong with my Department’s image,” Chief Bogo levelled his gaze at the Mayor, sat opposite him across the desk. He watched with irritation as the lion idly picked stray fur from the shoulders of his suit.

Mayor Lionheart raised an eyebrow as he examined a golden strand pinched in his claws. “Chief Bogo, most of your Officers are predators, and those that aren’t are megafauna. Citizens thinking the police sit around all day drinking coffee and eating donuts is  _enough_  of a stereotype, without giving them further cause, don’t you think?”

Bogo shifted uneasily, readying another protest. “Mayor Lionheart, policing the city is no job for—“

Mayor Lionheart raised a paw. “The Mammal Inclusion Initiative is as important in encouraging diversity here in the city as it is in securing my next term in office,” Lionheart proclaimed. 

Bogo’s lips whitened. Lionheart continued. “I want to encourage everyone — citizen  _and_  civil authority — to step up and support it.  _Including_  the ZPD.” There was a hint of a growl in the lions voice.

“Which is why,” Lionheart pushed a copy of the  _Zootropolis Times_  over the desk towards Bogo. “I’m assigning her to Precinct One. To you, Chief Bogo.” 

Bogo looked down. The paper was opened to show a half-page photograph of the Zootropolis Police Academy’s first rabbit graduate, pulled tight in the frame next to the Mayor. “What better place for change?”, grinned the lion.

_Officer Judith Laverne Hopps._

Bogo blinked. He glared at the rabbit’s awkward toothy grin and those wide, naive eyes staring up at him from the page. Her official Academy graduation photograph had appeared in the  _ZPD Gazette_  earlier that week, somewhere near the back, and although he hadn’t paid much attention to it at the time, there was no forgetting that smile and earnest expression.

“Anyone can be  _anything_ , Chief Bogo. Remember?” Lionheart grinned as he leant back in his chair, paws resting behind his head. “It’s done,” he shrugged. “I know you’ll make it work.”

 

* * *

 

Bogo’s lips rolled over his teeth as he considered Mayor Bellwether’s suggestion.

 _Hopps_. A  _spokesmammal_  for the department. Bogo blew air as quietly as he could. 

“I’m aware of her record,” he said, flatly. “She has exceeded  _most_  expectations—”

He scowled as the Mayor continued to outline all the ways a good Officer like Hopps could help to soften the ZPD image. Bellwether was just like her predecessor, he thought. 

“I understand you appreciate her frankness, Mayor Bellwether, but I would rather not have Hopps indulge the current media frenzy any further.”

Hopps  _had_  turned out to be a good Officer, but she had put a number of muzzles, snouts and trunks out of joint amongst the ranks of the ZPD. There were Officers who had quietly objected to working with her. He made it clear he was available to talk it out if needs be, but reassignment wasn’t an option. For  _anyone_. 

 _Suck it up. We need to pull together to pull through,_  he’d told each of them when they had come to him.

Bogo leaned forward a little. “A poster campaign. Hm.” 

“I suppose it means she hasn’t got to  _talk_  to anyone, at least,” Bogo grumbled. “Very well. She deserves an opportunity to explain herself, at least.”

“Thank you, Mayor Bellwether.” 

There was a click, and with a sigh, Bogo dropped the phone handset back onto its cradle. He rolled his head upon his neck.

 

* * *

 

“Wait, did you just  _bare your teeth_?“ The klipspringer at the front desk took a step back, her lanyard swinging as she stepped back.

“This Officer just bared his teeth,” she said again, addressing no one in particular, but loud enough to be heard across the floor.

Officer Clawhauser sat stiff, paws clapped tightly over his muzzle, and a look of elevated surprise arching his eyebrows up high. He glanced around frantically before lowering his paws, and tried to calm the distressed mammal stepping cautiously away from him. He put his paws flat on the desk and leant in, filling her view.

“Ms. Wheber, please! It’s the donut! All the dough is stuck in in my—“ Clawhauser reflexively sucked his teeth.

“You did it again!” Ms. Wheber squeaked and stepped back further.

“I’m so sorry, Ms. Wheber,” he said as he reached for a tissue to clean himself with. Clawhauser hadn’t heard Ms. Wheber approach the desk and had been happily working through a particularly sticky donut when she had announced herself. He picked the remnant up from the desk and dropped it into the open box, quickly stowing it in the open filing drawers at his knees.

“Mf.” He crumpled the tissue. “What can I help you with today, Ms. Wheber?” Clawhauser smiled politely, conscious of his teeth, hoping there was no dough showing.

“Officer Clawhauser, isn’t it?” Ms. Wheber squinted up at the cheetah. She stepped forward but still kept one hoof behind, warily. “I think perhaps today, I would like to speak to another Officer, if I may?”

“Oh,” said Clawhauser, a little deflated.

Ms. Wheber was a regular. She worked at the Department of Herds and Grazing, and was a particularly forthright member of the Okapi Gardens Neighbourhood Watch scheme. The Gardens were a respectable enough little community, but Ms. Wheber in particular took a dim view of a number of her fellow residents from behind ever-twitching curtains. This was the first time she’d rebuffed Clawhauser.

“Well, I’m here right now,” said Clawhauser, looking abashed. “Surely I can—“ 

Ms. Wheber shifted as she cast her eyes around, looking anywhere but up at him.

“Oh! Chief Bogo,” Ms Wheber exclaimed, as she caught a glimpse the buffalo walking near the elevators. He picked up the pace for a few steps, reconsidered, and then reluctantly turned to walk over.

“Ms. Wheber. A surprise to see you, as always. How are things at the Gardens?” Bogo asked breezily. “I’m sure you’re going to tell me,” he added under his breath.

“Chief Bogo, if I may,” she began, straightening her blouse and flattening her lanyard open her rising chest. “I thought you would be more sensitive to the feelings of your city right now,” she said in a low voice. Ms Wheber shot a glance at Clawhauser, who pinched his lips tight.

“Go on,” urged Bogo.

“Your Officer. He  _snarled_  at me, Chief Bogo.”

Bogo looked at Clawhauser.

“Clawhauser?” he asked.

“Oh, Chief, it was a donut, it got stuck in my teeth and—“ Clawhauser wrung his paws.

Bogo flicked his eyes to the desk counter. He noticed the crumbs and sugar and one of the cheetah’s crumpled calling-cards, one corner covered in jam. He patiently stared at Clawhauser, who finally produced the incriminating evidence from near his knees.

“Just so I understand,” Bogo folded his arms. “You’re accusing one of my Officers of atavism, a  _very_  serious accusation, I might add,” Bogo lowered his gaze to take in the whole of the klipspringer. “Because of a  _donut_ , Ms. Wheber.”

The klipspringer flustered. “But he— I thought—”

Bogo cut across her. “No, Ms. Wheber. You didn’t.” 

“Now, if  _I_  may,” he said, a breath whistling through his gritted teeth. “The ZPD is very busy at the moment. My Officers are engaged in dealing with a city-wide crisis. Officer Clawhauser here is available and more than capable of taking your Watch report and forwarding it to the relevant Officer.” 

“So please,  _respectfully_  make your report.”

Bogo stood and watched for a moment as Ms Wheber shifted and stammered a little, before gathering herself up and straightening her blouse once again. 

Her ears flicked as she watched with the corner of her eye. She relaxed slightly as he walked away, and, taking a deep breath, she turned to the earnest face looking back at her from above the desk. With a nervous laugh, she began to detail the Watch reports, which Clawhauser diligently noted, nodding at each point Ms. Wheber outlined.

Bogo returned just as Ms. Wheber was trotting away. She gave both Chief and Officer a haughty glance now she could put some distance from them both. 

“Have a good day, Ms. Wheber,” Bogo called. She didn’t acknowledge him.

“Clawhauser,” Bogo leaned on the front desk.

“Yes, Chief?”

“Well, what have we got?”

“Ms. Wheber, Chief, she’s reported, uh,” Clawhauser shifted his papers. “One noise nuisance, sir,” he continued. “Wolves after 11pm,” he added. Bogo pushed out his lips and nodded.

“Grazing damage to some ninth floor flower boxes, and, oh, a use of hosepipes in summer season. Private supply, not hydrants.” Clawhauser placed his paws on top of the paperwork.

Bogo’s ear twitched. “I see. Civil matters, then. We’ll have one of the CSO’s follow up.”

“Yes, chief, I will pass these on.”

“Clawhauser,” Bogo said again. Clawhauser flattened his ears at the change in tone. “We’ve talked about eating at the front desk, I believe?”

“Yes, Chief,” said Clawhauser, a little cautiously.

“I suggest you keep those out of sight until your  _official_ break, understood?” Bogo pointed to the donut box beside Clawhauser.

Clawhauser lifted his eyes. “Chief,” he nodded.

Bogo flipped up the lid of the donut box and took one for himself before sliding the closed box back across the desk. “Remember our clean desk policy, Clawhauser.”

Clawhauser shifted the box beneath the desk once more and quickly dusted the sugar and crumb away from himself.

“Thank you, Clawhauser.” Bogo carried off the donut, but waited until he got to the elevator to take his first bite. The fried dough stuck gummily to his own teeth. He rolled his lips to try and clear them.

 

_* * *_

 

 _Well, that couldn’t have gone any worse_ , Bogo huffed to himself as he paced back across the short distance between City Hall and the ZPD, each step falling upon his lengthening shadow. He clutched a small ZPD badge in his hoof.

Hopps had been sullen the whole journey across the plaza. Neither of them spoke.

He’d expected her to be, at most, slightly embarrassed at the photograph City Hall Repro had chosen from her graduation pack and comped over a stock image of the city.

Perhaps she would be a little humble given her current demeanour, which would have surprised him, but ultimately he thought she’d be happy to accept the position being offered, and thankful be able to redress the balance after her first media outing.

But she’d  _quit_. Placed her badge upon the Mayor’s walnut desk and quietly padded away. She didn’t once look back as she slipped out of the door.

She’d given up, and it _stung_. He grunted as he swung through the doors to the ZPD lobby.

The first thing that struck him as he crossed the lobby floor of the ZPD was the Officer on the front desk.

It wasn’t Clawhauser. The shape was taller, leaner and more antler-y. Perhaps the caribou, Hornebuck, flustering in his place was covering for him, but then it wasn’t scheduled break, and it was a good few hours before the shift changed. 

Bogo frowned as he approached. He pocketed the small badge and placed his hooves on the desk surface. It was polished clean, he noticed, no sign of the usual dusting of sugar and sprinkles that Clawhauser usually marked his territory with.

“Hornebuck, is Clawhauser…?”

“Chief. He’s not — the Mayor — don’t you know?” Hornebuck asked, a look of concern creeping across his long face.

“Apparently _not_ , Hornebuck.” Bogo’s brow deepened.

“Weren’t you just with Mayor Bellwether?”

“Hornebuck.”

Officer Hornebuck quickly pulled a concertinaed sheet of paper up from the neat pile of files to his side. “This was sent to me, direct from the Mayor’s office,” he said, hurriedly.

Bogo snatched the sheet from Hornebuck’s own hoof. With spectacles perched atop his snout, he skimmed the page and settled back upon the typically brusque first paragraph.

_Due to public concerns, the Office of the Mayor is beginning a programme of reorganisation for front-of-house staff at ZPD Precinct One._

“Get me the Mayor,” he said, quietly.

“But sir,”

“The  _Mayor_ , Hornebuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I received some feedback on the previous chapter which prompted me to take this alternative route to try and address it. Bogo has just as much responsibility to his Officers as he does to the city itself, and having that pointed out made me realise the previous chapter left Bogo in a pretty irredeemable position.
> 
> I hope this revision has been both an improved read, and more in keeping with character.
> 
> Many thanks to CombatEngineer for the feedback.


	5. Dawn Bellwether

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Similar to the previous chapters, this part has some canon divergences, but remains broadly within the films framework.

“Yes, this is Assistant Mayor Bellwether.”

The phone-call bearing news of Mayor Lionheart’s arrest had stirred Dawn breathlessly from the dark. She hurriedly changed into something a little more formal and twitched a curtain to watch for the approaching car, catching sight of it shimmering in the low streetlights like polished obsidian, drawing in ready to speed her away. She bit her lip and tugged on her blazer as she trotted across the parquet to the open door.

The car whispered through the night and she had spent the journey listening to immaculately suited mammals talking quickly about the scale of the operation at Cliffside, the arrests, the savage mammals found there. In a blur and with one hoof held aloft at City Hall, she was sworn-in as the new Mayor. 

The flashing cameras of the modest press assembly bore witness, as bright as the sun.

“Lionheart’s actions have surprised and shocked us all to the very  _core_ ,” she recounted bitterly at the start of her address. She would fluster at times, but take a moment to compose herself and carry on, as she knew she must.

 

* * *

 

Officer Hopps had made it somewhat more difficult for Dawn to try to offer a sympathetic ear to the families of the savage predators following the ZPD press conference only a few hours later. Who could have known such a loaded question would prompt an answer that could cause  _such_  distrust and division? 

But Dawn had risen above it.

Later that day she had made the time to speak personally to the families of the mammals plucked from Cliffside, offering kind words and soft assurances that the City was doing all it could to find out what they had gone through, and whilst their continued medical isolation was indeed  _regrettable_ , the City would also be offering the victims the very best support it could grant them.

She’d spoken at length to doctors, nurses and psychiatric support staff at those various hospitals and clinics. It was truly tragic, but she commended them on their bravery and commitment as she rapped a hoof upon the hardened screen between her and the patient and stared through her reflection to the sharp prowling eyes beyond.

At first, it was thought the postures and actions may have simply been a product of their incarceration, an expression of their trauma. They’d been found in small bare cells, barely a few feet square, rather than well furnished, softly lit isolation wards they resided in now. Some of them had been imprisoned for weeks according to the ZPD’s meticulous timeline, pacing back and forth in foreshortened loops behind the cramped glass.

But it became clear that little if nothing of their former selves remained, and like Lionheart’s discredited doctor before them, these specialists were no closer to forming a credible theory into what the underlying cause could be. 

One such specialist, Dr. Cornice, a sleek, soft-spoken snow leopard with fur as crisp and clean as her lab-coat had taken some considerable time to explain the current thinking. Despite Dawn feeling a little instinctive prickle at the nape of her neck, the snow leopard was calm and approachable. Dawn smiled and commented upon how  _impeccable_  Dr. Cornice’s bedside manner must be when she toured the wards.

In those briefings, Dr. Cornice smartly outlined that her team had already considered something  _transmissible_  — viral, maybe bacterial — however there was no suitable contact between the afflicted mammals up until their confinement.

Infected fleas, tick and lice bites were a considered vector for a short time, as there had been a significant rise in incidence due to the warm spring. A public health message about thorough grooming regimes was already being circulated, but aside from the irritation the creatures posed, analysis showed they were an unlikely factor, too. 

However, Dr. Cornice and her team were beginning to consider the possibility of environmental contaminants. Dr. Cornice had suggested that mammals may becoming symptomatic due to exposure to particular flora, genetically modified or otherwise, whose side effect they hadn’t considered. Difficult to isolate, but they would try. Dawn knew they would.

From what Dawn could gather from the police report she received, the team had been making progress until Dr. Cornice had — as the affliction was now begun to be colloquially referred to — “gone savage”. Her team were still in shock and those who had found her amongst upturned benches and shattered glassware were undergoing counselling.

As she reviewed the photos of the wrecked laboratory, Dawn nodded solemnly while the investigator in charge told her dryly that Dr. Cornice would still be contributing to the medical investigation, although in an entirely different capacity.

 

* * *

 

There had been, as expected, considerable liaison with the ZPD which was becoming a continual to-ing and fro-ing between herself, the Commissioner and Chief Bogo to ensure the peace could be kept and the streets patrolled, whilst maintaining the integrity of the Department. 

As the weeks passed, there was ever more terse dialogue regarding the ZPD’s front-line, and soon it began to hang on one question.

Could whatever was happening out there to our citizens start happening to our  _officers_ , too?

It was a concern being echoed out on the streets, Dawn was told throughout her daily briefings. The city was getting twitchier and more nervous, more prone to ill-considered action, as recent events had proven.

There had been a number of protests across the boroughs and districts of Zootropolis, some small, some large, some with celebrity backing, but they had all been well-ordered affairs. A jostle here, a shove there, nothing more than scraped knees and hurt pride if anything at all.

The protest on Pack and Herd had, like all the others, been planned, approved, and given all the appropriate ZPD resources to ensure the peace was kept, but had become a worrying reminder of how a twitch was sometimes all it took to trigger a stampede. 

No one was quite sure what had caused the flashpoint, the outcome was all that mattered now, and the footage had terrified Dawn. As she’d watched, she had begun to wonder later if it had been entirely  _appropriate_  for Chief Bogo to assign the officers he had.

Dawn had discussed it further with him, and he had been adamant in the defence of his officers when she’d suggested “ _Well_ , perhaps it  _might_  be prudent, hm, to begin to scale back the street presence of these officers, given the current situation? What was it now, nearly  _thirty_  ongoing incidents since Cliffside?“

“Twenty-seven,” he’d corrected, flatly.

“And growing  _every_  day! We can’t run the risk of an officer being affected by this crisis, Chief Bogo.” 

He’d vehemently vouched for their character, cited their various assessments, and had strongly advised against jeopardising the ZPD’s abilities to serve and protect. Even the concerned citizen within Dawn could do little to counter this without justification.

Soon after, a staff-member from Herds and Grazing had spoken to her in the corridor. Adelyne Wheber — Dawn had quickly glanced at her lanyard — had flustered over to her with something clearly bothering her. 

Dawn’s predecessor would have been quite ready to put her off and suggest she makes an appointment to discuss  _whatever_  was on her mind at a more convenient time but Dawn always made the time to hear the concerns of others. The klipspringer began breathlessly recounting the way a desk officer at the ZPD had bared his  _teeth_  when she had visited to make her weekly Neighbourhood Watch reports. 

She detailed how Chief Bogo had insinuated that she’d overreacted. “Yes,  _yes_ , it had been an unfortunate misunderstanding,  _bu-hu-hut_  the point is, Mayor Bellwether, do you think the image of the ZPD might be at risk by such displays, no matter how trivial?” 

Dawn had thought about it for a moment, and thanked Adelyne — “It was Adelyne, wasn’t it?” — for her concern and oh,  _of course_ , the ZPD should present an approachable front in these difficult times. She would take it up with the Chief and try and get the matter resolved quickly.

As Dawn patted Adelyne encouragingly upon the shoulder, she assured the klipspringer that as Mayor, she felt that in matters of public safety, swift, decisive action was alway prudent.

“Leave this with me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Adelyne,” Dawn said, as she began to canter away down the corridor. “I have a campaign meeting with Communications to attend.”

 

* * *

 

Dawn teased the small poster back across the desk with the tips of her hoof. The office was quiet, the murmur of city business just outside. She settled back into her seat, the supports creaking unexpectedly against her small frame.

“Oh,  _mutton-chops_ ,” she breathed.

When Dawn had first met Officer Hopps, she’d been so very impressed at her progress, of how the rabbit had chased her dream of being a serving officer of the ZPD up all the way through college, the Academy and finally, to a top-marks graduation. She was thrilled to hear the Mayor assign her to Precinct One. A rabbit in the ZPD, well now, she’d be one to watch, Dawn had thought.

And Dawn had been right. After eagerly jumping onto the Otterton case, Officer Hopps had gone on to bring to light something far more sinister going on right under the noses of City Hall and raise it up for all to see. 

After the dust had settled, Dawn had looked at Officer Hopps closely, and saw even more promise. The rabbit had gained some press experience soon after the Mayor’s arrest, and with some guidance from Communications, she would be the perfect spokes-mammal for the ZPD. Dawn was doing what she knew to be best, taking a positive step in improving the ZPD image which was frankly on shaky ground of late, and Dawn had offered the position with open arms and a friendly smile.

But, what Officer Hopps had done was turn it all down, resign her badge and leave. Dawn was mortified.

And Chief Bogo? With all that subtle pride in his Officer made hollow, he’d just sat there being so _stoic_. He’d left almost as silently as Hopps had, like a thunderhead that hadn’t got enough height and was full of only disappointment.

Dawn would have called Hopps back if she could, would have tried to soothe her conscience, but deep down she understood what it was like to be socommitted to a principle.

Dawn realised she was clenching her hoof tightly beneath the desk. She took a breath.

 

* * *

 

The desk phone trilled.

It was getting late, and she was beginning to wish she had asked her assistant — her  _assistant_ , that felt  _good_  — to hold all correspondence, but Dawn drew back her shoulders and accepted the call.

She settled back in her seat and moistened her lips as she listened to the low bellowing coming down the line.

“ _W-e-ell_ , A donut  _may_  have been the cause of the whole sorry incident,” Dawn said in a conciliatory sing-song. ”But, to be fair, Chief Bogo,  _please_ , put yourself in the position of a mammal like Ms. Wheber.”

Dawn eased herself forward in her seat. “I realise she can be a little preemptive at times, but you have to understand—“

Dawn looked at the poster of Officer Hopps, still lain on her desk.

“—She’s a prey animal in a city that’s constantly looking over its shoulder. Where will the next mammal go  _savage_? I don’t know. Do  _you_  know, Chief Bogo?” She paused for breath, eyes ahead, brows knitted and full of purpose.

“The last thing we want is for that to happen to an officer, an officer of the  _law_ , Chief Bogo, and I hope it never does, but we simply  _can’t_  have mammals in fear of coming forward to the ZPD on that account.  _We can’t._ ”

Chief Bogo stuttered his frustrations, but Dawn patiently waited, listening intently.

“Oh, I have read his file, Chief Bogo. Officer Clawhauser is a  _per_ fectly competent liaison, on paper, but we absolutely don’t want to give our citizens  _any_  kind of ideas that officers in their police force can go  _savage_ ,” she said, with pointed emphasis.

“Is that  _really_  a picture of the ZPD  _any_  of us want to paint, Chief Bogo?” she quavered. “I know I don’t.”

“Well,  _quite_ , Chief Bogo.” Dawn raised her eyebrows and repositioned her spectacles.

“Certainly, Chief Bogo. And while you’re doing that, I think perhaps you should also consider taking the time to impress upon Officer Hornebuck the importance of not eating at the front desk.”

Dawn began to relax back in her seat a little.

“I’ve decided to hold on my decision regarding your roster of officers on active duty, and I’ll honour that for the sake of continuing to serve the needs of city.”

Dawn smiled through her compromise.

“I’m more than happy to meet and review the situation in, say, a months time, but,” she paused to lean forward and pres a clenched hoof firmly upon the desk. “I’m  _sure_  you understand the Office’s position on this,” she added finally.

Dawn nodded curtly.

“Let’s hope we can avoid any further unpleasantnessbetween your officers and the public, hm?”, she smiled thinly.

“Well, no, thank  _you_  for your concern for the city, Chief Bogo, I’ll be sure to be in touch,” she breathed as she pressed a hoof to the cradle. Lifting and hearing the dial-tone in her ear, she gently returned the handset.

Dawn calmly adjusted her spectacles once more and smoothed her unclenching hooves along the neat trim of her desk. 

She looked down at the poster again, the image the rabbit she had chosen to be the poster-mammal of the ZPD smiling proudly back at her and reached a hoof over to her desk buzzer, holding it a little longer than perhaps politely necessary.

“Yes, Mayor Bellwether?” came the urgent voice over the intercom.

“Mona—” Dawn always liked to use her assistant’s first name “—I know it’s getting late, but could you contact Communications for me? I need them to put a hold on a campaign run.”

“Certainly, Madam Mayor. Um,  _which_  campaign?” asked Mona.

“The Hopps campaign,” said Dawn, heavily.

“Oh,” Mona hesitated a moment. “Of course, Madam Mayor.”

“Thank you, Mona.”

Dawn picked up the poster, quickly and cleanly folding it before dropping it in the recycling bin at her side. 

The sharp, abrupt fold rested across the neckline of Judy Hopps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first watched the film, I missed to pick up on a great deal of foreshadowing about the real villain of the piece, and for the longest time it was only the note on Bellwether's desk that really stuck out.
> 
> So, whilst I was writing this, I went back for another look and realised how subtle some of the other hints were, so wanted to see I could be equally subtle with this chapter.
> 
> I don't have a lot to go on in terms of character, but I had a thought about perhaps exploring an officer POV next as a shorter piece, before covering a little more of Judy’s time in the last chapter.


	6. Atavism, Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be quite a short chapter, as I wasn’t sure how much I’d be able to write based on characters with no dialogue and barely any screen time. I ended up adding an original character to help set the scene, but then the story decided it wanted to go somewhere a bit different.
> 
> Events still fit in the three month period, and reference things in previous chapters, but aren’t related to any particular thread in the film.

Amelia Furhoeff’s ears  _burned_.

“Marcy,” the she-wolf breathed, her quiet voice almost lost in the clink and burble of lunchtime service. Steam formed at the cafe door as it swung open to admit customers and cold air beyond. “You’re serious?”

“It’ll be good for you,” said Marcy, a bright eyed lynx who brushed her short fringe from her eyes and continued to dig around on her plate of tuna. Amelia wasn’t eating. She cupped her mug of tea with her paws, tapping her claws on the clear beading glass.

“The Mystic Spring Oasis?” Amelia leaned forward. “Marcy, you know what they  _do_  there?” she strained. 

Marcy looked blankly at Amelia for a moment, before an amused grin spread warmly between her cheeks. “It’s a  _health spa._ ” Marcy broke into a laugh. “You’re  _too much_ , you know?”

Amelia frowned, her eyes dropped low.

“Amy, you work so many hours at that office.” Marcy looked at the tightly cupped paws laid on the table opposite. “You’re a bag of nerves. Look, there’s a group of us. We’re booking early because the waiting list for non-members is like,  _months_  long,” she said, toying with a forkful of tuna upon her plate. 

“You’ve got some summer leave due, yeah? I know you’ve got nothing planned.” Marcy dug her fork until it clinked and scrapped on the plate. “It’ll be fun. Remember  _fun?_ ” Marcy popped the tuna into her mouth and chewed vigourously. “ _Mf_. A weekend there, and it’ll be like there’s a new you, Amy.”

 

* * *

 

“ _The next station is, Oasis Hotel,”_  announced the tannoy, a jumble of cut and paste cadences. “ _Zootropolis Transit apologises for the delay._ ”

Amelia Furhoeff stood in the vestibule panting in the heat of the subway car, the open ventilation slots doing little more than move the stifling air from outside in. She braced her shoulder against the bulkhead behind her, bending her knees a little to take up the rocking of the car as it slowed.

Other travellers began to gather themselves up to disembark, holding tight to their belongings. Amelia caught a glimpse of a pig, finishing his newspaper. 

 _Savagery on Pack and Herd_  declared the headline.

She tried not to stare too much, instead choosing to snatch furtive glances as she took the first few lines of the leading article.

_As the clean-up begins and the costs are counted, City Hall calls for an independent investigation into police tactics following the riots…_

She blinked as the pig looked almost direct at her, and she quickly dropped her eyes. If the pig had even noticed she was looking, he ignored her, folding and tucking the paper under the crook of his arm as he straightened his tie.

Amelia closed the booklet she had been reading along her journey. _The_   _Mystic Spring Oasis: Finding the Real You_ , announced the bright cover from between the paws she’d been keeping guard with. She had felt her ears warm and her footpaws squirm a little each time a fellow traveller caught a glimpse of the title. 

Amelia slid the booklet quietly into her canvas bag, and rested her head back upon the bulkhead behind.

It had been a stressful month in the run up to her vacation. The news had been filled with a new worry every day. The savage mammals, the protests, and now _rioting_ , she would lace and knot her paws and lower her eyes each time she walked around a conversation about it at work.

There had been the increased workload there, too, after Carter, the old goat from Marketing, had unexpectedly resigned following the appointment of a well manicured puma to Accounts, all before the new  _Gerbilax_  campaign launch.

Then, there was incident with her neighbours. Amelia had opened her door, not expecting to meet their foal playing in the hall outside her apartment. She’d been surprised and reared suddenly. She’d tried to explain, but the zebras didn’t want to hear. They scooped the tearful foal up and shut their door abruptly. She’d left a note and flowers by way of an apology the next morning, and was heartbroken when she spotted them in the compost bins as she returned from work that evening. 

She sighed heavily. The idea of being off-grid at a relaxation spa and club, away from all of  _this_  was, she had to admit, growing on her. But one aspect she had begun to agonise over it as the weekend grew closer was accepting the idea of relaxing without clothes in the company of strangers.

Amelia was the first to admit how painfully shy of herself she was, but, her friend Marcy had assured her, everyone who ever been to the Mystic Spring Oasis had felt that way on their first visit. She felt a little more reassured, but her ears had burnt hot throughout the whole conversation.

Embarrassment aside, she was glad Marcy would be there.

The darkness outside the window close by became a blur of colour, wall tiles and advertisements, and finally, the faces of expectant mammals were starting to come forward, eager to board and begin their own journeys.

Doors pushed open along the length of the platform. Near the middle was always busiest, the place where the tourists and the business mammals embarked, closest to the archway that opened to the escalators beyond, but Amelia favoured the quieter, thinner crowds at the platform ends. She took a breath.

Ears held aloft now, Amelia disembarked down to the platform, hitching her bag up on her shoulder as the oppressive air of the platform rose to met her. A small flock of sheep were waiting to board as she padded lightly on the platform edge. The sheep shifted uneasily as she passed around them and she found herself lowering her eyes, trying not to meet their ovine glare.

Amelia quickly side-stepped away around a patch of water, cordoned with hurriedly wound hazard tape. She could see water dripping from a leaking ceiling, and as she turned, she felt something wet catch the back of her neck. A chill shocked her skin against the oppressive heat and she shivered a little at the thrill of it.

Her phone buzzed. One message.

Marcy:  _Where are you? Train trouble, I guess. Hope you’re nearby. Waiting at Mystic Spring. See you soon. M._

Amelia considered responding for a moment, but the platform was busy and she found it hard to text and walk. She slipped the phone away. She’d reply when she got up to street.

Mammals crossed to and fro ahead of her, threading in and out of the waiting subway cars and nearby tunnels. She bunched up her shoulders involuntarily. That chill was quickly becoming a prickly heat that made her stop to put her paw to the place she’d felt the wetness just moments before. She ran her claws roughly through her rising hackles and gasped.

The chill was on her paw-pads now, cold, so  _cold_ , wicking away her heat and leaving nothing but fire. She drew her paw back to catch a glimpse of something dark, a deep violet stain fading quickly through her skin and fur. She stepped forward on one footpaw, then the other but the platform floor was moving quickly in another direction entirely and Amelia fell forward, paws flat on the ground. Her pads stung from the sharp slap on tile and her shoulder bag slipped down, contents spilling around her. 

“Oh,” she sighed sharply, her heart fluttering before the breath caught in her throat, rumbling and course. Someone was talking. To her? She couldn’t tell. It was a blur of sound that made no sense.

Amelia could see panic and flurry, smell sudden, sharp fear, hers, theirs, all around. She held herself low, crouching, drawing her paws up under her. Mammals scattered suddenly. A scream, a bellow, a braying cacophony. A rabbit bolted past, flapping footpaws kicking through the contents of a scattered bag in their haste. _The_   _Mystic Spring Oasis: Finding the Real You_  span away roughly across the platform away from her.

And then, the wolf was all and everything, exposed and raw. Somewhere inside, what was left of Amelia Furhoeff wanted nothing more than to run and to hide herself in the dark.

 

* * *

 

“There you go, Officer. One pawsicle,” said Finnick. “That’ll be three bucks.” He stood teetering upon an upturned coolbox next his refrigerated ice-cart, shading his eyes against the bright sun.

“Three bucks,” said Officer Higgins, raising an eyebrow over his sunglasses. “They were  _two bucks_  a week ago.” The hippo puckered his lips a little as he took the small frozen juice stick and handed over his payment.

“Supply and demand, Officer.” The fennec took the bill and scooped the change back. “Besides, ice costs  _me_ money, too.” He rapped a tiny paw agains the ice-cart. There was a gurgle deep inside. 

“Yeah, yeah,” said Higgins, rolling his eyes.

“ _Three_  bucks,” he said incredulously, holding up the pawsicle to his partner, Officer Wolford. “Can you believe it?”

Panting in the heat, Wolford shrugged his shoulders as he scanned down Finnick’s paperwork and commerce declarations.

“All seems in order,” he said, handing it back to the little fennec, who grumbled as he slipped the folded leaves of paper back into the pocket of his shorts.

Wolford tucked his notebook back into his breast pocket. “Your mark-up is a little high though.”

“I’m cutting my own fur here, Officer,” Finnick replied smartly. ”Any cheaper and I may as well be giving these pawpsicles away, y’know?”

“No, right,” Wolford smiled thinly. “Clearly. You have a good day, sir.” He nodded, sliding his sunglasses back into place upon his muzzle.

Finnick watched the officers leave with narrow eyes, and returned to his sales pitch besides the sidewalk. “ _Pawpsicles_ ,” he called gruffly. “ _Get yer pawpsicles!_ ”

“This heat keeps up, it’ll be four bucks tomorrow, you know,” muttered Wolford. Higgins rolled his eyes.

“ _Pawpsicles_ ,” rang out once more in the distance.

“Sahara Patrol. On the day like  _this_ ,” grumbled Higgins, holding his one arm wide while he slurped on the pawpsicle melting rapidly in his mouth. “Chief Bogo must really hate us.” 

His shadow fell across Wolford, but offered no respite from the oppressive heat.

Wolford whistled through his teeth. “Chief Bogo hates everyone, Higgins.” 

“Ugh, this  _heat,”_  the wolf groaned, loosening his collar as much as regulation allowed. “I know it’s Sahara Squared but, y’know,  _every_  year it’s the same. You’d think they’d sort out the dehumidifiers on the Wall  _before_  the summer.” 

“Business as usual.” Higgins dropped his spent popsicle stick in the nearby recycling point. “Bellwether’s right about that.”

The pair of officers continued their patrol, eyes keen and watchful through the shimmering Sahara air, feet kicking up the hot dust from the pavement as they paced along.

“So, I was thinking,” said Higgins.

“Really. See, I thought that smell was coming from the bins,” said Wolford, eyeing the large composting containers shaded in a side alley. “But if you were  _thinking_ ,” he grinned.

Higgins laughed weakly. “Yeah. Funny joke, big guy,” he said, looking down at the thin, wiry wolf beside him.

“I was thinking,” Higgins stood swaying a little from foot to foot on the hot pavement. “About this week’s safety briefing.”

“Oh, that,” Wolford breathed dismissively.

“What would you do?” asked Higgins. 

“What would I do? About what?” Wolford licked his lips and began to pant again.

“You know,” Higgins said. “If it happened to you? The thing the Chief was talking about?”

Wolford peered over the top of his sunglasses. “Oh, _going_   _savage_?”

Higgins winced. “I wasn’t going to call it that.”

“Because  _atavism_  is so much less emotive,” shrugged Wolford. “Yeah, I’ve read the guidelines, Higgins. We’re not supposed to call it  _going savage_. But this is just us, right?”

“Sure,” said Higgins. “Just wasn’t sure how you felt about it, was all. Fangmeyer —“

“Sh-yeah,” Wolford sucked his teeth. “We  _all_  know how Fangmeyer feels about it.”

Wolford stopped panting. “Look, I feel like any predator does right now, but you know what?” He stood square on, facing his partner. ”I don’t think there’d be much I  _could_  do,” he continued flatly. “Maybe dart myself in the leg? While I was still, y’know?” He waved his paws near his eyes. “All there?” 

His nostrils flared and muzzle wrinkled. “It’d hurt like hell, but, pff,” he shrugged. 

“Sure would,” said Higgins, nodding appreciatively.

“What would  _you_  do, Higgins?” Wolford asked.

“I’m not a predator, Wolford.” Higgins huffed.

“Well, no,” Wolford frowned. “Sure.” The wolf shifted his weight between his footpaws. “Not  _quite_  what I meant.” 

“But you saw the briefing video, right?” Wolford continued. “And you were there, at the Asylum.” He pressed a paw to his chest. “It’s pretty clear what  _I’d_  be doing.” 

“On all fours, yada,  _yada._  Jaws slung with drool, that type of thing.” Wolford rocked his head casually from side to side. He flapped his mouth and curled his paws. Higgins glanced round quickly, making sure no-one had seen Wolford’s little display.

“I’d be good to take on half a unit, probably,” Wolford added with wry twist of his muzzle, watching Higgins closely.

“Oh, yeah. Half a unit,” scoffed Higgins.

“At  _least_ ,” Wolford said, waving a paw.

”You wish, big guy.”

“So, you’d stop me before I got that far, right?” 

Wolford looked up at Higgins. The hippo’s eyes darted quickly, but before he could answer, both their radios warbled an all-units call tone in their earpieces.

“ _Dispatch to all units. Atavism has been reported at the Oasis Hotel station._ ”

Oasis Hotel. That station was moments away, bright alabaster curves meeting the glittering glass roof above the plaza.

“That’s us,” Wolford bobbed up on his footpaws, tapping Higgins on the arm as he began to break onto a run. He turned back. “Call it in,” he said, quickly.

“ _Suspect is a grey wolf, female, lilac top, dark shorts,_ ” announced the dispatcher before Higgins could respond.

Wolford’s shoulder tensed and his footfalls slowed. The dispatcher continued. “ _ZTP and containment officers are on-scene, be aware, tranquillisers are authorised._ ”

The wolf sucked air through his clenched teeth.

“You sure?” asked Higgins, alongside now, checking his taser.

“I’m sure,” said Wolford, without hesitating. He started to run towards the open plaza entrance of the subway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a bit of a guess as to the nearest transit stop to the Mystic Spring Oasis. 
> 
> It was good to find a place in this chapter for Finnick, too, continuing the pawpsicle hustle in Nick's absence.


	7. Atavism, Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a few amendments to the previous chapter which you might like to read before continuing. Mostly typos, but some sections have been amended to make the flow a bit better, and also add a little more shape to Amelia's character.

“She got out?” the Ground Commander grunted. “Well, just what exactly were the ZTP doing?  _Trainspotting_?”

Wolford and Higgins watched with disquiet as the warthog clenched his radio tightly. “So, we’ve got a runner.” He paced, head shaking. 

“Understood. Out,” he grizzled finally, letting his arm drop in frustration.

“You two,” he shouted, focusing his glare towards Wolford and Higgins, a calculated appraisal. “Yeah, the  _nose_  and the  _wide-load_.” Fixing his radio back onto his shoulder-point, he crossed the short distance across the plaza like a storm cloud.

“You’re on active search. Take the strip up towards the Mystic Spring Oasis.” The officers nodded quickly. “We’ve got an ID. Here, take this.” The warthog thrust a digital tablet towards Higgins. The hippo grasped the small device tightly. The display woke and Amelia Furhoeff looked back from behind the screen. The image was taken from her driving license, one of her personal effects found scattered on the platform at Oasis Hotel. She was a tight lipped she-wolf with a faint trace of worry on her brow, trying to maintain an impassive stare for the camera.

“This is hers. All we have,” said the warthog, passing across a small canvas bag to Wolford. It was already wrapped as evidence, but the scent seal was still open. His nose quivered as he inhaled deeply, fixing the scent of dry earth, sweat and a sweetness like sandalwood. 

“Not going to be a problem, is it?” The warthog asked, eyes narrow as he took the evidence back.

“No,  _sir_.” Wolford’s gaze lingered.

“You find her, you call it in. You’re to hold her until we get there. There’s to be  _no_  engagement.” The warthog stared.

“ _Sir_ ,” Wolford and Higgins said, in unison.

“Well,  _get going,_ ” snarled the warthog. He muttered something under his breath, shaking his head as the pair of officers ducked under the cordon tape and broke into a jog.

 

* * *

 

“ _Wide-load_?” Higgins muttered, pulling at his duty belt. 

Wolford grinned as he shifted his sunglasses. “Too many pawpsicles, Higgins,” he said. “Neither your wallet nor your waist are thanking you.”

“Yeah. Thanks, big guy,” grumbled Higgins.

“Look, focus on the job, worry about your waistline later, yeah?” Wolford shrugged, irritably. “Besides, in this heat” he panted, “Maybe you’ll sweat it out.”

The street was wide and hot, soaking up the high sun like a clay oven. A few mammals more suited to the heat were moving around, but most were cooling indoors or, like Higgins and Wolford, kept to the shade. But even under the sharp shadows, the ground was uncomfortably hot to the touch for unprotected paws and hooves. Wolford sniffed.

The curves of Oasis Hotel fell behind them as they rounded the street corner. As an interchange for three Zootropolis transit lines and meeting close to the opulent Palm, Oasis Hotel was an impressive structure, filled with smoothly sculpted alabaster that met with elaborate mosaics and tiles, threaded with colours which, if the sun shone just right, would glisten through the settling desert dust.

The streets that led away towards the Mystic Spring Oasis were far humbler in comparison, a rough ochre adobe. The facades were stained with patterns that formed a patchwork of life and colour all their own.

“There’s a bazaar up there,” noted Higgins, catching the sweat beading upon the bristles of his lip.

“I think we’d know about it if she got loose in there,” Wolford answered, ears angled carefully ahead. The bazaar began a little way in the distance, and continued off into next street along, filled with nothing more alarming than the soft sound of haggling from high to low, quiet in the heat of the day. Musk and spice was all around, thick and heavy in the air.

“No way I’m getting a scent here,” Wolford muttered, sucking his teeth.

A lynx shifted nearby. Wolford noticed her shading herself under a draped canopy along a crenelated wall, colourful lettering declaring it part of the Mystic Springs Oasis. She had a compact figure and her pale summer dress fluttered loosely about her legs as she moved. She looked as if she were a mirage agitated by something other than the heat. 

“Ma’am,” asked Wolford, crossing closer, “Is everything alright?” He stooped a little to catch her eye as she studied her phone intently.

“Officer,” she startled a little when the wolf appeared alongside. She lifted her sunglasses. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m waiting for someone.” She held up her phone, clasped tight in her paw. “She’s not picking up,” she said. One corner of her mouth pulled tight.

“Uh-huh,” said Wolford.

The lynx shrugged a little. “I knew it,” she breathed, shaking her head lightly. “Second thoughts, I guess.” The lynx motioned to the Mystic Spring Oasis behind them. “There was a group of us. They’ve all been dropping out because, well, you know, the news.”

“Okay, sure. Ma’am. Have you been waiting here long?” Wolford took off his sunglasses, squinting a little as his eyes adapted. Higgins continued on a few paces, casting his eyes cautiously around the dark alleyways that split away from the main street.

“I, uh, don’t know,” said the lynx. “About a half hour, maybe?”

“Well, you might be able to help us, we’re looking for someone, too.” Wolford retrieved the tablet from Higgins and woke the screen with a claw. “Perhaps you’ve seen them pass by here in that time?”

The lynx’s eyes danced for a moment as Wolford held the awakened tablet for her to see. Her brow twisted in confusion, short muzzle wrinkling. “Amy?” she asked. 

Wolford lifted an ear. “Do you know her?”

“Yes — we’re friends — it’s Amy I’m supposed to be meeting.” Her eyes widened a little. “That’s why I’ve been trying to call her.”

“I heard there was a problem on the Loop,” she was getting more animated as she began to scrutinise her phone again, tap scroll, tap scroll. “On the news—”

“Ma’am,” Wolford’s ear quivered again. 

The lynx opened her mouth soundlessly as she met Wolford’s eyes.

“ _Savage_  mammal?” The lynx’s face changed swiftly from mild concern through to fearful apprehension. Wolford winced a little as the lynx put a paw forward to tug at the tablet bearing Amelia’s image.

“Was that  _here_? What’s happened to  _Amy?_ Is it… Oh my g—” The lynx cupped her paw to her mouth.

“Ma’am, please,” Wolford began, holding his paw flat.

Higgins turned. The lynx’s flattened ears pricked up. Wolford stood, tense and alert.

There was a howl carrying on the air, a single mournful note that echoed off the tile and adobe. Higgins and the lynx were trying to find its direction, heads and ears twisting. To them, the howl rang out as a simple declaration.

But to Wolford, the howl was filled with meaning, painfully clear.

_Where are you?_

Wolford stiffened, swallowing his own urge to respond.

“That’s a  _wolf_ ,” said the lynx breathlessly as she cast her eyes around. “Oh, _Amy_.”

The howl sounded out again, closer now, quavering and strained by a sadness that pulled at the core of Wolford’s chest. He could feel himself beginning to rock forward on his footpaws, thoughts racing as if running with the pack, ready to answer the wolf’s call.

“ _Wolford_ ,” said Higgins sharply. The hippo’s voice pulled him upright, his eyes rolling back into focus, suddenly clear of his trance. Higgins was starting to edge closer, moving for his taser. Wolford’s caught the scent of sweat and perfumed wood he’d noted clinging to Amelia Furhoeff’s bag.

“Ma’am, w-what your name?” asked Wolford, blinking eyes scanning the side streets.

“Uh, M-Marcy,” she said. She was moving from foot to foot in agitation, her arms tucked close about her.

“Okay, Marcy. I’m Officer Wolford.” he said. “You say you know Amelia?”

“Amy, yes,” Marcy nodded.

“Can you call her?” asked Wolford.

“She isn’t picking up,” said Marcy.

“No, call her  _name_.”

“Wh-“

“Please, just call her name.”

There was another long, keening howl, somewhere lost and out of sight in amongst the labyrinth of alleyways.

“Marcy, please.”

The lynx took a breath. “Ay-Me!” She looked to Wolford, flushed with self-consciousness. It’s okay. Try again, his eyes said patiently. She took a full chest of air this time.

“Ay-mee!” she called, louder now.

Another howl, a response, shorter, closer.

“Ay-meee!” Marcy yowled.

There in the shadow were a pair of eyes, fiercely reflecting the relentless sun.

Amelia pawed forward hesitantly, holding herself low in the shade. Angling her head, she let out a soft growl as Wolford and Higgins closed up the gap around the lynx, who was backing up against the dusty wall behind her. “Amy,” Marcy breathed. Higgins rested on his taser, readying himself.

“Higgins, call it in,” said Wolford, calmly. The she-wolf held her distance as Higgins quietly gripped his radio and made the call. He nodded across to Wolford.

“Okay, Marcy. Some officers are on their way. They’re going to calm Amelia down, but you need to stay calm too.” Marcy’s knuckles were whitening beneath her fur as Wolford shifted alongside. “Marcy, stay calm,” he breathed, nostrils flaring. Her feet scuffed in the dust, eyes fixed on the she-wolf.

Amelia’s ears were flattened, quivering. Her paws fell close to each other as she crouched a single leap away now, tucked down low on all fours. Her knees were raw and her light clothes were streaked with soot and dust, snagged and caught and frayed from furtive scrabbling, low and out of sight.

Higgins’s jacket rustled as he gripped the stock of his taser.  _No engagement_ , he’d been told. Small as this she-wolf was compared to his bulk, he was struggling against his own fight-or-flight, sharp, urgent and buzzing behind his eyes as they flicked carefully from she-wolf, to lynx, to his partner. His arm tingled as if it were becoming stone.

Wolford fought hard against the draw pulling him down to his own knees, to bunch up and throw his head back and howl and snarl at this she-wolf, this threat.

 _Was this how it starts?_  he wondered. 

_Is it happening to me?_

He braced his feet once more, stood fast, resolute between the she-wolf in front of him and the lynx and hippo behind.

The radio suddenly chattered in his earpiece.

“ _Target spotted near the Mystic Spring Oasis, all units converging, tranquillisers authorised. Repeat, tranquillisers authorised._ ”

But something was troubling Wolford now. Neither the speed of the wolf’s approach nor her posture said much of the kind savagery they had expected to find. Her eyes were wet and unable to meet his. There was no growl or snarl now, only a thin whimper. Higgins was aware of it too, noticing the more obvious signs like her tail, firmly tucking between her hind legs.

Despite this, Amelia was trying to close the gap. Her tongue was out, anxiously licking her lips as she put a paw delicately to the ground, then another, back arched, unable to meet Wolford’s eyes and looking only to Marcy.

Wolford could see shapes moving quickly across the roofs and terraces, between the castellations and ornamental turrets. His ears perked as he listened to his earpiece.“Marcy,” Wolford spoke softly. “We’re going to need you to move. Can you?” Marcy’s eyes were wide and wet, her pupils tight with fear, staring at the she-wolf stalking close, trying to spot a glimpse of the Amelia she knew.

“ _Marcy?_ ” 

She turned.

“Can you move?” Wolford insisted.

She nodded, hesitantly, enough understanding for Wolford. “Okay. On three, you and me, we’re going to move over there. Higgins, you cover us.”

The lynx, wolf and hippo nodded in unison.

“One.” Wolford braced his feet against the dusty ground, calves taut.

“Two.” Higgins tensed now, poised to move fast, ready to cover with his taser.

“Three,” and Wolford’s paws were outstretched as his arm scooped around Marcy, drawing her close. 

He turned his back and cradled her head protectively, covering her ears and shielding her eyes so she wouldn’t hear the tranquillisers find their target or see the net drop and tighten. His own feet dragged painfully on the ground as he pushed to move Marcy away, careful of her unsteady, twisting legs.

Shapes pressed in behind. There was the rip of velcro, a blur of restraints, a muzzle dragging harshly on the ground, and though he kept himself between Marcy and Amelia, he knew Marcy could hear the short whimpers and abrupt shuffling through his paws. Wolford could feel Marcy’s chest rise and fall against his claw-vest. She turned with eyes filled with tears to look down the street, far away into the distance, anywhere but here. 

 

* * *

 

Marcy sat on the back of the ambulance. She rocked, pulling the silver foil blanket tight despite the fierce sun, while a medic looked on carefully. A Community Support Officer, a badger, sat beside her. Marcy wiped at her eyes with the heel of her paw. Her lips moved and the badger nodded sympathetically.

Wolford panted as he regarded the ZPD transport van pulled obliquely behind a pair of marked prowlers, a little way up the road. He’d held Marcy close as he’d watched the officers wrap Amelia Furhoeff and carry her like luggage towards it. They’d slid her across the flatbed and shut the pen doors as if the tranquillisers might fail and the straps suddenly unwrap at any moment.

The light-bar flickered blue and red as the vehicle drew away quickly along the road, siren wailing.

Higgins shifted uneasily on his feet, mopping the sweat from his snout as he drew closer to his partner, unmoving in the heat.

“CSO’s taking a statement,” he said. “The medics say she’ll be fine. She’s pretty shaken, though.”

Wolford’s ear lifted as placed his paws upon his lower back and blew air through his teeth. 

“Understandable,” said Wolford thinly.

“How about you?” asked Higgins.

“Pff,” Wolford blew again, his eyes narrow in the sun. He bunched up his shoulders. “Suck it up,” he said distantly.

“Y’know, it was a perfectly normal day for Amelia Furhoeff. Business as usual,” Wolford let out a little laugh, dry and humourless. “Then,” Wolford shook his head. He turned back to face Higgins. He scratched at his muzzle. “Yada.  _Yada_ ,” he trailed off.

Higgins hesitated, lips tight. “You asked what I’d do, Wolford, if you ever went… mhm.” He stiffened, unable to finish.

“Whatever this was?” asked Wolford, quietly. 

“Yeah,” Higgins breathed. “Whatever this was.”

“I did, didn’t I.” said Wolford.

“I don’t know what I’d do, Wolford. I really don’t.” Higgins looked on.

“Sh-yeah,” Wolford stepped carefully to the side. “Me either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and the story. 
> 
> I had an idea a little while back about writing an Officer POV as a back-and-forth, but really didn't know how to move it forward. Then Amelia and Marcy came along and the story decided to develop a little differently.
> 
> It was shown in the film that the Night Howler toxin causes a great deal of aggression, likely due to the concentration, but I wondered if other parts of personality might remain after exposure, and if Night Howler would make them manifest just as readily. 
> 
> I think there will be one more chapter to come over the next week or so, focusing a little more on Judy's days at Bunnyburrow.


	8. A House that is Safe, Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Judy, Bonnie, Stu and a miscellany of Hopps.

Judy hesitated. 

Her paw rested pensively upon the polished wood of the door waiting before her. She looked back across her shoulder to where her parents were busying themselves near the little truck that had delivered them from Bunnyburrow station. Her mother, Bonnie, caught her eye and smiled a little reassurance.

With that, Judy slid her paw downward, a single push opening the unlatched door ahead of her. She peered through the doorway. Her eyes had acclimated to the bright summer sun outside and she blinked once, twice, as they began to adjust to the darker interior.

She crept softly into the hall that opened out before her. Inside doorways and under arches, she should make out the outlines of rabbits now, busy, thankfully distracted. 

Perhaps she could slip through quietly without being noticed and —

There was the sound of feet breaking into a run, pounding upon the wooden floor.

“ _Aunt Judy!_ ”

A little light-brown rabbit suddenly barrelled forward to clamp her arms around Judy’s knees, catching her off-balance.

“Whoa,” Judy’s free paw went out to steady herself. “Cotton,” she breathed, twisting a little at the waist. 

One by one then by many, ears were thrust high, stiff and alert. Noses began to twitch. Judy shrank a little, her cover blown. Heads turned and rabbits approached, drawn curiously forward to the sudden exclamation at the doorway. 

“Oh, Cotton, mind my suitcase,” said Judy, unsure where to place a paw in order to gain her release, whilst she looked for an opportunity to put her luggage aside.

Judy’s legs sagged as Cotton released her.

The little rabbit stepped back, feet curved inward and cheeks dimpled as she disclosed the broadest grin for her aunt. Judy placed her suitcase down and sat carefully upon her haunches.

“You’re  _home_ ,” said Cotton, energetically shifting from foot to foot as she jumped and pressed in close to Judy’s waiting arms.

“I am, Cotton,” Judy’s ears wrapped behind her.

Bonnie was negotiating the doorway carefully behind her daughter. “Cotton, were you waiting here the  _whole time?_ ” 

“ _Most_  of the time, Grandma,” said a muffled voice from behind Judy’s arm.

“She  _really_  missed you, Bun-bun,” Bonnie added, a wistful smile played on her muzzle. 

“Yeah,” Judy said quietly. She felt the little rabbit’s warmth close to her chest, quivering ears near her face. 

“Counting the hours,” Bonnie said, stepping delicately past. 

“I made a chart. Aunt Violet helped,” Cotton proclaimed. Her ear-tips waved excitedly.

“Hey, watch those ears,” Judy warned, sensitive nose twitching. She brushed the little rabbit’s ears softly aside whilst Cotton giggled ticklishly at her aunt’s touch.

Cotton watched closely. Her nose twitched. “Aunt Judy,” she began, angling her curving ears. “ _Your_  ears are all  _droo_ -py,” she pointed out.

Judy blinked, brushing her paw self-consciously at her own ears.

Cotton’s bright smile wavered as she tilted her head a little, trying to decipher what was making her aunt look so withdrawn, when she was usually so full of energy.

Judy tightened her lips a little before allowing her face to relax.

“Oh, Cotton. I’m fine. I’m just… just tired,” she said softly. “Hey,” Judy brought Cotton close and leant forward to touch her muzzle to the top of the little rabbit’s head. There was the scent of clipped grass and earth. The smallest smile turned on Judy’s lips.

“I missed you too,” she whispered before rising to look up. “I missed all of you guys,” she added, addressing the small contingent of the Hopps family that had gathered in the hall. A ripple of excited homecoming questions began to make their way forward.

“How have you been, Judy?” asked Ambrose, the smiling doe rabbit stood closest to Judy.

“I’ve been… busy, Ambrose,” she replied, not wishing to elaborate.

Megan stepped forward, her paws expectant. “Have you met any cute bucks yet?” 

“Heh, no, Megan,” Judy smiled thinly.

“We saw you on the news, Judy,” chorused Diane and Daisy, a pair with matching sand-coloured fur. “Mayor  _Lionheart_. Who’d have thought?” said Daisy.

“Now, a rotten carrot like that,” Diane shook her head disapprovingly.

Randall swelled his chest to interrupt. “Here she is!” he exclaimed, broad arms flung wide.

“Randall—” Judy began.

“Welcome home,  _Officer_  Hopps,“ said the rabbit next to him, a buck named Ray, nodding appreciatively

Randall wrapped an arm around Judy. “Hey, sis,” he said, a smile spreading across his broad features as he pulled back. 

“Still in one piece, I see,” Ray observed. Randall and Ray nodded in agreement. Judy sighed gloomily.

“A police officer?” asked someone, a young voice obscured in the midst of the crowd. “I thought Dad said Judy was a  _meter-maid?_ ”

Judy frowned.

“What’s  _happening_  in Zootropolis, Judy?” asked Daisy.

“Huh, happening?” asked Judy, turning on her heel.

“You not scared?” Megan’s paws faltered.

“Have you seen anyone go savage, Judy?” A pair of ears quivered behind Ray’s shoulder.

Judy stiffened. Her mouth tried its best to work.

“Mayor Bellwether will put it right, surely?” someone suggested.

“Judy?” a voice asked.

She could feel her heartbeat in her throat as she stepped back, overwhelmed. “I—” she managed to stammer, before Bonnie stepped forward, paws held high.

“Alright, everyone,” Bonnie said. 

Ray continued his separate conversation with Randall. Ray shuddered. “Well, those savage attacks scare the fur off me from here, and I’m not even—“

“ _Everyone!_ ” Bonnie called again, much louder. Every ear rotated this time, even Judy’s. The clamour settled to a murmur as Bonnie Hopps stood resolute.

“I want you all to give Judy some room, please,” Bonnie said patiently, shooing back the siblings who had crowded too close. She put a paw to Cotton’s back, steering her away too as Stu stepped across the threshold beside them. 

“That’s right,” said Stu, removing his hat. “It’s been a long journey. I’m sure your sister would like some rest.” He was mussing his head-fur now as he looked as his daughter. “Wouldn’t you, Jude?”

There was a murmur of equal parts agreement and disappointment from the Hopps assembly as they began to slowly disperse. 

Judy’s shoulders relaxed as she watched them thin away. “Thanks, Mom, Dad,” she sighed, glad for the intervention.

“C’mon now, Amber, you too,” Stu placed his paw gently behind the head of a small copper-furred rabbit, stood defiantly expectant once she’d been ousted from her hiding place behind the coat rack. She pouted as she too was eventually shepherded away.

“You can all catch up later,” he announced to the thinning crowd. “There’ll be plenty of time,” he added with a nervous laugh.

Mother and daughter exchanged a glance. Judy didn’t smile as she took up her luggage. Bonnie looked at Stu disapprovingly as hung his ears in a little telegraphed apology.

“Y’know, travelling always makes me hungry,” Bonnie breezed, moving on quickly. “Have you eaten?” she asked, facing her weary daughter. ”I hope you’re not still skipping breakfast, dear,” she added, paw on hip.

“I had a snack on the train, Mom. It’s fine.” Judy shrugged. “Really.”

“Well,” she asked quietly, “can I get you anything to drink?”

Judy stood breathing, thoughts elsewhere.

“Hon?” asked Bonnie. Judy pursed her lips. 

“Maybe later, Mom,” Judy said, gathering her case and umbrella and turning to slowly pad deeper into the warren.

 

* * *

 

Judy wandered lost in thought, scuffing towards her old quarters.

When she was younger, she’d learnt to make this journey with her eyes closed. It was but one of many routes, each turn, pace and timing memorised and made routine. Her feet found their own way and finally, the familiar door with the lightly scratched lacquer came into view.

Like most rabbits, Judy had grown up sharing space with her brothers and sisters since birth, but there came a day when Judy was granted the privilege of a small room of her very own.She remembered well that first thrill of it. Her own space, away from the crowd, privacy — a rare thing for rabbits — with a door to close and a whole wall to decorate rather than just a square on a headboard. But when the time came to settle for the night she had lain awake in blinking silence, missing dearly the soft purr of other sleeping rabbits and the comfortingly idle white noise of conversation, burbling like a radio turned low.

There was a sudden movement in the corner of her eye. Judy pressed close to the wall, ears high as a group of rabbits half her age chased along the corridor. “Hi Judy!” they chorused as they passed.

“Hey-y, don’t run in the corridor, you guys,” she said, half jokingly.

“Sorry, Officer,” one said guiltily, as they all slowed to brisk walking pace. Judy’s eyes narrowed as she watched them round the corner and listened as, out of sight, the footfalls and scrabbling began again in earnest.

“I call dibs on the comfy chair!” a voice called excitedly.

“I get to choose the channel, then!” another declared.

 _Officer_. She huffed, wondering if her mother had told anyone the reason for her return. As she turned back to the room, to reach out a paw to thumb the latch, a thought struck her. Her mother and father hadn’t mentioned whether anyone else had been billeted in the space beyond, and Judy hadn’t even thought to ask as she’d stared at the passing countryside, half listening to her father talking about the crops and which of the fields were going to be fallow next year. 

Could she even still call it  _her room_ , she wondered, knowing well that empty rooms deep in rabbit warrens didn’t tend to stay unoccupied for long.

She took a breath and, preparing herself to perform a hasty eviction, pushed the door open.

It was a small room, smaller even than her old apartment. And, to Judy’s relief, unoccupied.

A bed had been made, pushed against one wall, fresh pillows propped and unfamiliar sheets turned. There were indentations that suggested someone had been sat there recently and an empty laundry basket was placed upside down near the head. Nearby, she spotted a few of her old toy dolls sat in an open packing box. It was sat on a small cluster of other boxes of various sized, her name neatly printed on each of the sides. A low folded chair that doubled as an additional bed had been added, cramped into the corner and stacked with folded clothes and bedding. Beside the bed, a lantern stood. 

She ran a paw across the smooth wall still painted in two-tone lavender. There were a medley of scents; her mother, sisters and brothers, a few others, not close, just passing through, cinnamon, hay, cedar, lavender and grass. Her nose wrinkled at the soapy hint of laundry powder as she padded softly, turning on the spot in the small avenue of clear floor.

“Judy!” A rabbit, a little older than herself and dressed in a dark cable-knit sweater and breezy summer skirt appeared in the open doorway, half-moon spectacles propped upon her twitching nose. A laundry cart, brimming with clothes and bedding stood behind her.

“Violet,” The smallest smile pulled at Judy’s lips as she breathed deeply.

Violet eagerly crossed the distance to embrace Judy.

“Missed you,” she said, pulling back, paws lightly resting on Judy’s shoulders. A hint of a frown pinched her brow. “You’re early.”

“I wanted to miss the rush hour,” Judy said. She paused to look at Violet’s cart, then back to the to the piles of linen upon the daybed. “So, is this the laundry now?” 

“Not quite,” Violet chuckled. “A few more days and it would have been. Mom asked me to rearrange some of the rooms when she heard you were coming home. We decided to move the laundry down to Tori and Phil’s old room.”

“They moved out in the end?” asked Judy. Violet nodded. 

“The rest of this,” she indicated to the clutter on the daybed, “we’ll get moved tomorrow.”

“Mom said she wanted you to feel at home, so I got your things out of storage.”

Judy looked at the small packing boxes.

“It took some shuffling, but here it is.” Violet gestured around the room with her paws, before clasping them behind her back, rocking on her feet.

“Thanks Vi,” Judy said.

“Got anything?” she asked, indicating to the laundry cart while she eyed the suitcase and umbrella Judy had rested at the foot of the bed.

Judy thumbed open her suitcase. “Laundry duty as well? Don’t you have enough to do?” 

“Oh, it’s just this floor. Manny was needed up at the main field,” Violet counted off on her paw, eyes raised up to the ceiling as she did so. “Maude is in Podunk with Tori and Mandy is lifeguarding at the lake till late. I couldn’t find anyone to fill in at short notice,” she said with a shrug.

Judy began fishing out clothes she’d retrieved from her apartment, bundled like rags ready to be tossed. She held up a crumpled yellow t-shirt. “Not exactly souvenirs,” said Judy, working to separate the remainder by colour before adding them to the basket. Violet’s nose wrinkled a little as Judy’s strong scent wafted up.

“Hard week in the city, huh?” she smiled politely, eyebrows arched.

“Something like that,” said Judy with a shrug, recalling how little care of herself she had taken back in the city in recent weeks. “I was so busy, Vi,” she added, closing her suitcase and setting it upon the floor.

“Too busy to wash?” asked Violet.

She watched as Judy made a face and sat down heavily upon the bed.  “So, you’re taking a break? Mom said you’d be coming back, but,” Violet eyed the suitcase and umbrella Judy had rested at the foot of the bed. “Y’know, this doesn’t feel like just a weekend break,” she continued, enquiringly.

Judy curled her paws, gathering up the sheets a little either side of her. “I had some leave due,” she breezed.

“Really? That police chief of yours was on the news yesterday saying the ZPD were canceling leave,” said Violet, absent-mindedly tamping down Judy’s laundry addition.

Violet barely caught the flicker of shame in Judy’s eyes. Her sister sat with ears resting gently upon her shoulders. She was gazing past her feet, saying nothing.

Violet’s cheerful smile faded quickly as she studied Judy’s posture. “Everything okay, Judy?” she asked.

Judy looked up. “Mom didn’t tell you?” 

“She just said you were coming back,” Violet said, laying her own ears flat across her back as concerned eyes began looking her sister up and down. “Has something happened?”

Judy pinched and rolled her lips, rocking a little where she sat whilst Violet’s gaze settled upon Judy’s left cheek. The scars there had faded over time, unlike Violet’s recollection of Judy sitting next to her one evening, long ago now, oblivious to her swollen jaw and matted fur, protesting loudly when Violet had brought it to their mother’s attention. 

“Have you been—?” Violet drew a breath, sharp like iodine. “I mean, were you — have been caught up in—” Violet began to fluster. “There’ve been  _riots_ ,” she said, fearfully considering all the more dangerous aspects of a police officer’s role in a matter of moments.

Judy rose to her feet as Violet closed her eyes and took a breath.

“Vi-“, Judy advanced, carefully. Violet held up a paw.

“Have you been hurt?” she said, finally, peering at her sister as she straightened her spectacles.

“Oh, no, Vi. No, nothing like that.” Judy brought her own paws to her stomach, rubbing the back of one with the flat palm of the other. Someone did get hurt, though, Judy admitted to herself. Someone who had trusted her, once.

“I-“

Judy was interrupted by a sudden noise from along the corridor, a scrabble and shout in the distance, followed by the sound of hurried footpaws striking floorboards. Judy’s and Violet’s ears lifted in response as a group of rabbits hurried past the doorway, tripping around the laundry cart.

“Hey!” Violet’s voice was firm. ”Be careful! No running!”

“What’s happening?” Judy called, ears angled forward.

“The news — there’s been another one!” exclaimed a voice hurrying past.

Judy tightened her paws into balls, knuckles whitening beneath fur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.
> 
> Like _Atavism_ started out, I thought this might be a single long chapter but as I’ve worked on it, the story has grown to be a bit longer although I think once concluded it's as far as I can go before I run out of room, and the film continues. Hopefully, the next chapter will be ready for next weekend.
> 
> Rather than write more original characters, I’ve brought Violet from the comic _Brothers and Sisters_ into this story, as well as a few of the other members of the Hopps family named there.
> 
> In what little I've seen of Violet's character, I wanted to give a nod to her organisational skills, but it’s more her risk aversion and worry for Judy’s safety that was apparent in _Brothers and Sisters_ that I wanted to pick up on in this story.
> 
> Cotton also makes an appearance, and a lot of the other Hopps’s I’ve named at random as I’ve gone along. Visually, a lot of unnamed rabbits might work, but not so much when written down.
> 
> (Edit, 23.04.17) I've added some extra characterisation for Violet, and disconnected Judy a little more from her old room. I've also revised the homecoming questions to make them less focussed on the news from Zootropolis and more upon Judy - the film suggests the Bunnyburrow outlets are barely covering the situation. Hopefully too, the various Hopps characters are more in keeping with the tone of Bonnie and Stu's spoken lines in the film.


	9. A House that is Safe, Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went back and made a few amendments to the previous chapter which you might like to read before continuing. I’ve listed them in the end-notes there.

“ _Ugh_ ,” Violet frowned. “ _Rubberneckers_.” 

Judy could see her sister’s foot begin to _tap-tap-tap_ irritably. An abrupt wail, a cry of distress somewhere down the corridor tugged on Violets’s ears.

“Oh,  _saltshakers_ ,” she said with a gasp, nose twitching. “Abby,” she breathed, adjusting her spectacles, scuffling her feet.

Judy stepped aside as Violet swept back to apply the brake on the laundry cart and watched as she made a quick steadying gesture with her paws as if to check, but without touching.

Violet looked up as she turned down the corridor. “Come help me, Judy?” she asked, striding briskly away to assess the scene, a steady, urgent thump upon floorboards.

Judy was left to stare at the ceiling, her arms wrapping around herself as she spun on the spot.

“Oh, Art, what have I  _told_  you?” she could hear Violet saying with reproach. Judy ears quivered as she stood listening.

“But Aunt Vi-o-let,“ said Art. “We were just—“

“Well,  _you_  can try and get Abby off to sleep tonight,” Violet interrupted.

Judy paced to and fro down the narrow avenue of the room, glancing to the bed, the door.

“Here, take your sister, Art,” Violet said, sternly, as someone started to wail again. 

“Where’s the  _remote-control_?”

With one deep breath, Judy scuffed her foot on the floor and stepped out to assist her sister.

The disturbance was coming from a little communal area further down the corridor from Judy’s room. As she rounded the corner, the narrow confines opened into a little alcove. There was a curtain that could be drawn across the archway in lieu of a door and soft daylight filtered from the glazed light well dug into the flattened dome of the ceiling. 

There were mismatched cushions scattered on the floor, near a threadbare sofa that had been relegated here from one of the sitting rooms. It sagged wearily beneath the patchwork of rugs and blankets that lay over it. A boxy television set stood playing brightly upon a low table, ensconced in the corner of the room amongst the toys and books, antennae pointed abruptly to eleven and three.

“ _—The footage you’ve seen was taken on a phone within the café—_ “ said an elephant, filling the small screen, “ _—we’re appealing for other witnesses, and implore the public to remain calm—_ “ The elephant, a ranking ZPD officer Judy didn’t recognise, was wrapped in a thick Tundratown division uniform, ears tucked safely inside their hat.

The young rabbits who had been so eager to excitedly begin channel-hopping as they’d bounded past Judy earlier were huddled together gloomily now, as Violet loomed over Art, the eldest of the group. 

“You should know better,” she scolded. “You  _know_  how sensitive your sister is.”

“So-rry, Aunt Vi-o-let,” Art spoke quietly, a guilty mumble that barely moved his lips, shuffling his feet as he studied them.

Abby tucked close to Violet, the little rabbit pulling her ears low with her fretful paws. Violet carefully ushered her older siblings away while she brushed a paw soothingly over the top of Abby’s head and rested it on the back of her neck.

Randall and Ray were stood pressed against the doorway. Ray chewed a claw with his arms crossed. Randall had tucked his own paws into the top of his dungarees and rocked quietly on his heels.

“What going on?” Judy asked, watching Violet set right the little congregation that had rushed past and so nearly upset her laundry. 

They rounded up the rest of the young rabbits between them and made to leave. Abby’s feet were heavy, so a sibling knelt to gather her up in considerate arms and the little rabbit buried her head in the crook of their neck.

“— _This latest incident in Zootropolis has been contained, but, coming only week after the recent rioting, tensions across the city are running high yet again—_ ” announced a clear female voice on the television. Judy stole a glance towards the source, and saw it belonged to a stiff backed rabbit, her golden fur bright against black trim of her dark blazer and dim studio background.

“What happened?” Judy asked again.

Ray removed his claw from his mouth. “A polar bear went savage in Tundratown,” he said thinly.

“Savage, yeah,” Randall confirmed, scratching his broad nose with his own claw before tucking the rest of his paw back away into the pocket at his chest. “Someone caught the whole darn mess on camera,” he added, nodding an ear to the television.

The news changed to a breathy eyewitness, a hare, stood in front of cordon tape, wound tight across the doors of a restaurant. “— _It came through the door, so, the manager and I, well, we cleared everyone out the back_ —” he ducked close to the microphone as mammals filtered away behind him.

Ray cleared his throat. “The ZPD. They had nets, and darts, and  _muzzles_ , and—” His eyes were widening as he moved his paws around.

Judy stopped him. “I know how it works, Ray,” she said, flat and quiet. She soberly recalled the ZPD safety briefings she’d had to sit through. 

How to react. When to call for backup. Using  _those things_  when authorised. 

She glanced to Violet for a moment, noticing an ear perk and twist in her direction while she worked to pick up cushions and lay them tidily back upon the sofa.

Judy inched forward. “Was anyone hurt?” she enquired. 

“Nope, the news said everyone was fine,” Randall said, not taking his eyes off the little television in the corner. “Pretty shaken up, though, I guess.”

Violet began to dig around the back of the sofa, searching for the television remote control.

“No doubt,” said Ray, blowing through his teeth.

“— _we locked all the doors, and kept the bear in there until the ZPD arrived—_ ” the hare on the television continued, short ears stiff in the breeze.

“And… the polar bear? What about them?” Judy asked unsteadily. She thought of claws scraping at the heavy doors, and roaring, fogging windows with hot breath.

“Taken away,” Ray wrinkled his muzzle, lips puckered as he recalled the words the elephant officer on the report had used. “ _For clinical assessment_.” he said, finally.

Judy groaned inwardly at the euphemism. She’d first heard it while visiting Emmitt Otterton. He had circled and prowled in his quarters at Zootropolis General, leashed to a post behind toughened glass. Doctors had shaken their heads and given no answer other than that. Her feet squirmed.

“Ahem,” Violet coughed politely behind her, the noise lifting Judy’s flattened ears a little. Her sister stood stiffly, arms folded, feet together.

“Raymond? Randall?” she asked. “Shouldn’t you be helping Manny?” 

The two bucks shot each other a furtive glance, shifting awkwardly. 

 _tap-tap-tap_.

Violet raised an impatient eyebrow. “Hm?”

“Vi, we were just,” Randall’s eyes roved before he found his reason. “Just looking for our gloves,” he spluttered unconvincingly. Violet pointed to the thick padded gloves stuffed into both Ray and Randall’s pockets. 

“Oh, hey — look at that,” said Ray, mock surprise lifting his dark eyebrows. “No wonder we couldn’t find them.” He rolled his lips into an innocent smile. “C’mon, Randall. Let’s find Manny.”

Caught out by their sister’s scrutiny, they took their red ears away under Violet’s watchful gaze. Once she was sure they had taken the stairs leading out to their chores rather than skiving off deeper into the warren, she crossed to sit upon the blanketed arm of the worn sofa. 

“I keep telling the older kits not to scare the younger ones with news reports,” Violet said thinly as she leaned forward with crossed paws upon her knee, all worry-lines and wide eyes now as she held onto the remote control. 

“Abby woke her whole dormitory last time. She thought there was _something_  under her bed again,” Violet said, her eyes fixed on the small television screen now, distant and hypnotised. 

“Can you imagine?” she mumbled. Judy watched carefully as her sister balled her paw tightly and her shoulders moved up and down in time with her quicker breathing.

With a little shudder, Violet broke the spell. 

“I was so worried about you,” she said, looking down at her paws over the top of her half-moon spectacles. “I mean, I see this…” Violet waved the remote towards the television, gathering her breath.

“ _—_ _According to ZPD sources,_ ” the news report continued as she did so, “ _there has been a ten-fold surge in—_ “ 

“I heard about mammals getting hurt, and I wondered if the next thing I saw was going to be…” Eyes closed. Violet shook her head, lips tight.

Judy fidgeted, watching as the report moved to some assembled footage of a demonstration, cutting to a defaced sign above a shop, then a tiger pushing a broom around in front of a broken window, one paw held in a sling and wrapped in a bright blue cast. 

“ _—On Pack Street yesterday, aldermammals met with ZPD Community Support Officers to discuss the ongoing disruption—_ “ 

Violet’s eyebrows arched. “Mom tried calling,” she said softly. 

Guilt began burning at Judy’s ear-tips. In recent weeks there were many calls she had sent to voicemail while on long patrols and forgotten to return when she left exhausted at the end of her shift. She’d once or twice been able to tap out a quick —

_I’m okay, Love you guys. xX_

— but often it would be next day, or even the next when she’d see the voicemail counter and remember, and of course, she’d be back on shift and the whole cycle would repeat. 

“ _Bun-bun’s making chances for herself_ ,” Violet said, mimicking her mother's rounded intonation, although not unkindly.

But Judy’s ears hung heavier now as she recalled those other missed calls, the rest days when she had simply left her phone to ring out while she lay in her bed, penitent in her little apartment cell as the sun climbed outside her window.

“Vi, I meant to, I’ve just—” 

“Been busy,” Violet concluded. “You said.”

Judy wrung her paws, the dull ache in her chest worsening as Violet countered her default deflection. Judy opened her mouth, but there was no apology she could make, no other reason she could give.

The report changed the footage again, cutting to show a single wolf officer wearing a CSO tabard, trying calmly to stand down an angry crowd of predators on a street corner. Cordon tape threaded web-like through lamp-posts, while a group of prey mammals shifted along the other side of it with placards held askance.

“ _—following the violence earlier this week in which—_ “

Violet turned to begin to confront her sister further, when a blur of orange and green shook by on the television, catching Judy’s attention up in a jumping heartbeat.

Was that?

A fox.

_Him?_

A fox sat at the roadside, wrapped in a medic’s blanket and clutching a wad of dressing close to their brow, the fur there matted and wet.

Her mouth went dry and she lifted forward onto her tip-toes, her posture changed enough for her attentive sister to begin to notice the interest. Violet glanced at the television with a look of puzzlement.

“— _numerous mammals, predator and prey, were injured_ —“ 

A fox, younger, fur a far paler tone Judy now realised as she studied his face, his frame. Thinner, smaller, Eyes wide, blue. No collar, no tie, just a t-shirt with a band name printed on the front.

_Not him._

The medic, a racoon, balanced nearby and reached into their bright green and yellow hi-vis jacket to attend the wound with small sensitive paws.

Judy thought she felt all her blood pool down into her legs as she edged back, flat on her feet and faltering. She felt light headed, whilst Violet’s nose twitched afresh, sensing perhaps her sister wasn’t reacting to a reminder of past fears, but to one of a recent… what?.

“Vi,” said Judy quietly.

The news anchor continued to calmly report that “ _Zootropolis’s Mayor Bellwether has once again appealed for calm following these recent incidents in the lead up to this weekend’s demonstration march, scheduled to take place near the Watering Hole_ —”

“— _The City is doing all it can,_ ” Mayor Bellwether filled the screen, professional and businesslike in her royal-blue blazer and red trim, “ _in this very difficult time. We are considering measures that will help all citizens feel safe in the meantime—_ “

“Turn if off, Vi,” said Judy, quietly stepping closer to Violet, between her sister and the television. 

“ _—citizens large and small, flat-toothed, and,”_ Bellwether paused, smiled _, “sharp toothed._ ”

“Please?” Judy begged with laced paws. Her eyes were drawn, lines at their corners visible through her fur.

“— _Dawn Bellwether, Mayor of Zootropolis, speaking earlier._ ” There was a pause, filled with the sound of pages turning. “ _Other news closer to home now, and preparations are underway for Bunnyburrow’s annual—_ ”

Violet stared for a moment, as transfixed by Judy’s demeanour as she had been by the news reports. She glanced down and pressed a dull claw firmly to the remote. The television fell silent. 

Judy stole a glance over her shoulder, and sure the screen was off, let the tension gathering in her shoulders out with a little huff of exhaustion. Her paws untwined themselves as she padded gloomily over to the sofa. Springs creaked as she dropped to sit stiff and straight, feet together, ankles touching. She brushed her drooping ears behind her and held her paw to the back of her neck.

Still perched upon the armrest opposite, Violet gathered her skirt as she slid down to sit closer. 

“Judy?” 

Judy’s eyes were dull as she stared at the black oblong in the corner of the room, the dark blankness reflecting nothing. 

“Judy?” Violet repeated, soothing paws ready to catch her sister should she need to, but Judy remained stiff, folding a thin patchwork layer over herself, shifting her feet and knees underneath it as her eyes began to shine like polished glass.

“I’m fine,” came the curt response as she blinked her wet eyes closed. 

Violet said nothing. She stood again and crossed to the television set, and placed the remote down gently alongside. She lifted up on one foot and looked behind the set, studying carefully before reaching in with a paw to remove the plug from the wall socket.

The sound of the dull withdrawal prompted Judy to open her eyes.

Violet returned to her seat and studied her sister; her drooping ears and mussed headfur, her knitted brow and nose that twitched with each steady breath. Her eyes followed the line of her muzzle to her left cheek.

Aware of the attention, Judy turned, stretched and pulled her feet up beneath her. She leant back into the cushions and closed her eyes once more, to lose herself amongst the sounds of quiet breathing, creaking springs and settling floorboards and the scents of cedar and laundry power.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter.
> 
> This was going to be a few different scenes, originally with the Hopps family knowing far more about what was going on in Zootropolis. I realised that probably wasn’t authentic though, given the stories seen on-screen in the _Bunnyburrow Beacon_ , and what I’d started writing was feeling too much like a repeat of _Atavism_.
> 
> While I was revising this, I had an idea about some other aspects of Judy’s time at home and rather than rush it all into one lump, I decided to keep that for another chapter in order to give some space for Violet to develop a bit more here.
> 
> Hopefully, the next chapter will be ready in the next week or so.


	10. A House that is Safe, Part Three

Judy had rocked on her heels that night, paw gripped tight around the payphone handset. She had to clamber up on a stool to reach the slot and keypad, and of course, it had made a number of embarrassing scrapes and squeaks whilst she had pushed it across the tiles. But she had been too focused on making the call to worry about how many ears twitched or flicked. Down on more stable ground now, she felt giddy and dizzy with adrenaline as the dial tone had begun to purr next to her ear.

She glanced at the wall clock. It made a soft click as the minutes advanced by one. It was late and she was calling using an unfamiliar number, and so she fidgeted the blue plastic folder against her hip as the dial tone sounded out as second time.

She sucked her lip. Three times now.

There was a click, a brief fumble. A hesitant voice at the end of the line asking who was calling.

“Mom, it’s me,” she said brightly. “It’s Judy.” 

A pair of officers strode past with purpose and loud voices. She turned and caught herself in the long trail of phone flex as she reflexively brought the handset close to her.

“No, no. I’m fine, Mom.” she reassured, unwinding herself. “My phone’s fine — it’s… just not with me right now.“ 

It was logged in as evidence while the technical team retrieved the video of Mayor Lionheart’s admissions, but of course, Judy couldn’t tell her mother that.

“ _Everything’s_  fine, Mom,” she said, settling her excitement

“Hey, I’m sorry it’s so late. I-I know you called earlier, but, well,” Judy turned to face the Precinct Lobby where officers on shift and off were abuzz with talk of her accomplishments. “Something came up.”

Judy caught a glimpse of Nick talking with Clawhauser, near the front desk.

“No, I’m at work, Mom,” Judy said.

His knowing smile spread thick as he sipped coffee, his eyes askance as he talked, leaning confidently against the counter. 

“Yeah, it’s been a long couple of days, alright,” Judy laughed shakily. She noticed the ZPD livery on the mug as Nick took a mouthful. 

“No, Mom, it’s  _way_  more than parking fines,” she clarified with a broad grin.

Nick rolled his lips and wrinkled his muzzle, waving a paw at his drink. He spoke with gravely lowered brows to Clawhauser, who nodded, his own bottom lip thrust out solemnly.

“I, uh, I can’t talk about it right now—“ Judy moved her weight from one foot to the other. “—It’s just work. It’s something ongoing, that’s all. I was just calling back, so you didn’t worry.”

There an unheard remark which left Clawhauser laughing and slapping the desk. Nick posed a finger-pistol, lips flexing a click in the corner of his mouth. Paw in pocket now, he strolled over to where Judy stood beneath a noticeboard crowded with cards for counsels. 

“Listen, Mom, I’ve got to go, but —” she took a breath, holding her case file to her chest, “— I think things,” she paused, a soft smile. “Well, they worked out.”

She swung on one foot. “I should have my phone back by tomorrow evening - I’ll call you then?”

She had been aware of Nick, stood close. She smelt his coffee, his scent.

“Ok, Mom. Love you, bye,” she sung.

 

* * *

 

The sound of cutlery clicking, cutting and scraping upon enamelled plates echoed industriously throughout the arched dining hall.

Judy drained the remainder of her pot of tea into her mug, chasing the foam around with her stirrer. She rolled her shoulders a little, an effort to straighten her shirt without rising. It was a thick blue flannel from an older brother, an ill-fitting hand-me-down that held station while her other tops were still being laundered.

“Tori’s house is a  _picture_ ,” said Maude, sat next to her, forking through a bowl of salad. 

“Uh-huh,,” Judy tapped the wooden stirrer slowly upon the side of her mug. She settled her head to rest upon her paw as she watched her sister from across the table.

“A half-acre out back, all terraced up,” Maude continued. 

Judy sipped her tea with arched brows. She pinched her lips tightly, lowering the mug to the tabletop.

“And the  _produce_. My, she  _says_  she not serious about it, but—” Maude leaned in with widening eyes filled with a touch of conspiracy. “—I think Dad might just have some competition at Carrot Days next year,” she nodded sagely, dark eyebrows raised high amongst her golden fur.

“Really,” Judy said levelly, and then from nowhere, Judy huffed, a little smile flickering that creased the lines around her eyes. “He’ll love it,” she said.

“You ought to go visit her sometime. She asked how you were.” Maude filled her mouth with crisp salad, crunching vigorously.

Judy nodded in consideration. Maude swallowed a sip of her water. “Next time you’re on leave, maybe?” she asked expectantly.

Judy let out another breath but there was no humour this time. A little wrinkle passed over Maude’s brow as she noticed her sister’s ears tuck back a little lower and her shoulders become rounded.

“Don’t worry, Maude. When things are settled.” Judy said, her affirmation briefly correcting the little tilting angle of Maude’s head.

Judy was tapping her mug with her paw tips. “It’s just that I’ve been so b—“ She stopped herself, rolling her lips. 

“I’ll try and make time,” she offered noncommittal enthusiasm instead. She sipped her tea.

“Hey, Bun-bun.” Bonnie’s voice chimed breezily from behind. 

“Oh, hey Mom,” said Judy, turning on her seat. Bonnie was rocking a kit, nestled in the crook of her arm. It smacked its lips as it regarded Judy with sleepy eyes.

“How are you doing, honey?” Bonnie asked. She noticed the lonely pot of tea and mug in front of her daughter, aware that every other rabbit sitting had loaded plates in front of them. She followed up quickly. “Are you not eating?”

Judy rolled a shoulder. “I’m not that hungry right now, Mom.”

Bonnie thought for a moment. “You skipped breakfast,” she said. Judy frowned, conscious of Maude’s eyes and ears opposite.

“Yeah.” Judy crossed her feet on top of each other beneath the bench. “Just,” she shrugged. “Not hungry, I guess. I’ll catch up.”

“Well, maybe get outdoors today, hm?” suggested Bonnie. Judy settled back around. 

“Sure, Mom,” Judy said.

“Maude?” Bonnie glanced at Judy’s sister with an encouraging little tilt of the head, hoping Judy wouldn’t notice.

“It’s okay, Mom, Maude,” said Judy, stiffening her back to rise and drawing her refreshments closer. She felt a paw resting upon her shoulder for a moment, warm and worn. “Okay, hun,” said Bonnie.

 

* * *

 

Chief Bogo had waited until he was stood right behind her.

“ _Hopps._ ”

“ _Whu—_ “ Judy sat as bolt upright as her ears. 

“Go. home.” 

She’d blinked, startled.

Chief Bogo laid a copy of her duty log beside her. “It appears you’ve logged a considerable excess over your duty hours during the last shift period.”

Judy smacked her lips. “Chief Bogo,” she began breathlessly.

“Hopps. Please, tell me you  _just_  for-got to sign out the other day.” Bogo’s voice was laden with caution as he tapped the tip of his hoof irritably upon the irrefutable sheet of timestamps in front of her. “I trust you  _do_  have an apartment in the city, and aren’t routinely sleeping in the break room.”

She hung her shoulders, recalling with a little grizzling wince how Francine had walked in on her, Judy’s claw vest discarded and her uniform top off to just underclothes. The room had been loaded with Judy’s stale scent.

“Need I remind you that it is a  _shared_  space?” The floor creaked as Chief Bogo shifted. Judy moved her eyes guilty.

He huffed, an ear twitching. “Whilst I appreciate your… commitment,” he paused, head shifting a little as he did so, “I can  _not_  have my officers running themselves into the ground at a time like this.” He crossed his arms firmly, already sensing her protest.

“But sir,” Judy said, laying her paws palm up on the desk. “There’s still—“

Chief Bogo could see the records from the Missing Mammal case on printouts, and on her screen. He noted the paper pad where Judy had written and ringed, amongst others, the words  _Nighthowlers_  and  _wolves?_. Short connections loosely joined them, but led to out to a third bubble containing a heavy question mark, drawn numerous times, enough to scar the page.

“Hopps. They’re  _found_. You solved this case.” Chief Bogo shifted his neck slightly. He noticed some other paw-written notes,  _NW_ , some vague unconnected words. 

“It’s done.”

Judy balled her paws on the desk.

“I can’t spare any more resources,” he said, low and level. “And we have  _other_  priorities now.” He angled his head to suggest that Judy look at the city map affixed to the wall. A cluster of pins indicated the city’s new difficulties.

Judy shifted uncomfortably as she noted each of them. “Yes, sir.” 

“Now, go. Home.” 

Chief Bogo watched his officer diligently gather her notes, ready for filing. He uncrossed his arms and walked away.

Judy, watching him, had written something on a small scrap of paper, pushed the tax record back into the pile, and then slid off her seat.

 

* * * 

 

The old back porch stepped down to a little yard at the rear of the warren. The slab-work was solid and firm beneath Judy’s feet, and warm to the touch. Beyond, the slabs quickly gave way to a stretch of reasonably kept grassland, dotted with wildflowers.

Judy, with her paw steadying her sunhat, ducked beneath a row and along an avenue of the day’s laundry. She stepped into the meadow a little way past a tipped tricycle left amongst the flattened grass, and felt the blades brush her ankles and settle beneath her feet. With her paws in her pockets and hitching up her overlong flannel shirt upon her wrists, she stepped forward.

Beyond the white fence posts, the grass rolled over to a cluster of outbuildings, stores and the long barn that accommodated various pieces of farming equipment. Each building broke squarely into the smooth lines of the countryside, yet not one looked out of place.

Shaded there amongst them, rabbits were busy packing and rolling crates of produce, ready for sale and storage. A group tended to the needs of a carrot-grader, fur streaked with grease as they busied about the running repairs needed get it through the rest of season.

As she neared, tools clattered upon the yard. Her low ears twitched, a little more attuned now. There was a curse, some questions, and then, unexpectedly, laughter.

“Everything okay, you guys?” Judy asked at a distance. The group raised their ears, heads turning to follow.

“Sure, Jude,” said Manny, brushing his paws on the legs of his work trousers. “Only, Randall seems to have forgotten how best to hold a wrench.” Randall blew heavily as he balanced on one leg to reclaim his tools.

Judy hovered, digging the dirt with her foot.

“Looking to lend a paw, huh?” asked Manny, noticing. 

Judy shrugged and looked away. “I don’t know, Manny,” she said. 

Manny nodded a simple “Uh-huh,” as he rose a little on his toes. “You  _do_  know how to hold a wrench though, yeah?” He turned his head to project the question half at Judy, half at Randall. 

Randall sighed and shook his head, his mouth an unimpressed zig-zag. Someone behind the carrot-grader guffawed. Judy felt a little of the warmth of it, but stepped back all the same.

“They could do with an extra air of paws in the store,” Manny said. “If you’re feeling up to it?”

Judy firmed her lips and quietly nodded that she did, a little.

There was activity all around her and she stayed a while amongst it with able paws until her ears rang and her middle ached and in her centre, she felt a pang of hunger.

Brushing ears aside and re-seating her sunhat, Judy scuffed along the scrubby verge on the return back to the old back porch. Only a little of the fluttering avenues of laundry remained, baskets filling as teams of rabbits worked to gather linen and garments as methodically as if they were crops in the field. From indoors, she could hear the rising chatter and the thump of feet running on wood as the evening meal service began the first sitting.

She sluiced cold water from a wall-tap over her wrists, splashed it across her neck with her paws and wrung them on the hem of her flannel shirt.

With the chill at her nape, Judy straightened and caught a glimpse of the clear view to the darkening north-east. 

How many evenings had she stood out here looking to that spot  _right there_ , that notch in the rolling hills, her marker that told her where —  _just_  two hundred and eleven miles away — Zootropolis stood?

This evening her marker showed her another place. The place someone she had hurt was hiding.

 

* * *

 

“Hello?” 

Judy had managed to stop her voice trembling, at least. The overgrown steps had taken her down to a scratched whitewash door, and she had rapped urgently upon it with her paw. 

She had passed through neighbourhoods that regarded her with thin eyes in order to get here. Despite the protections her badge and claw-vest afforded her, she had been anxious, mindful of her radio, its panic button.

She rapped again.

A third time. A fourth. She listened, an ear folded up against the door.

Nothing. She stepped back.

Then, on the steps above, a much larger door pulled shut with a firm heavy sound. Judy rose up on her toes, peering up through the peeling railings. 

A bear stood looking impassively down at her. He blinked and scratched dismissively at his chest. She showed the badge upon hers.

“Officer Judy Hopps, ZPD,” she said. The salutation felt perfunctory now and she said it with little vigour. The bears ears pricked up at her name and his impassive eyes narrowed.

It was a terse exchange as she confirmed the address and asked for a  _Mr. Nicholas Wilde_. The bear shrugged. It was in connection with a case, she’d said, smiling thinly. She described him for the bear, who finally nodded his recognition.

“Look, lady, I’m just his neighbour. I ain’t seen him for, what, three—” a shrug, “—maybe four days,” the bear finally conceded. “He comes, he goes.”

“Free city,” the bear said, rolling his lips.

“Was it three, or four days?” she’d focused, pen at the ready but not once touching her notebook.

The bear thought about it for a moment, sucking his teeth. “Let say four, huh?” he said, tapping his claws on the railing.

He was fidgety with her questions, Judy noticed. Not enough to suggest any deception, but it was more than the usual unease her uniform and badge usually elicited. She remembered the bear’s change in posture and narrow accusation in his eyes when she’d announced herself by name.

“Do you have any idea where he might have gone?” she asked, trying to put that to the back of her mind. 

“Look— “

“Please,” Judy cut him off. Her eyes were growing sharp and intent on an answer as she climbed the steps back up to the kerb. “It’s important.”

“Uptown, downtown, I dunno,  _Outta_  town, maybe?” came the brusque reply from the bear as she shifted from side to side.

“I wouldn’t blame him if he did,” he added, offhand as he glanced down the length of the road. Judy noticed his muzzle wrinkle, as if he’d caught a bad scent on the breeze.

“No,” Judy mumbled. “I suppose not.”

The bear shot her an uneasy can-I-go look as he scratched his chest again.

“Thank you for your time,” Judy nodded, stuffing her pen and notebook back under her claw-vest.

“Sure, whatever,” the bear said as he lumbered away. He had looked back once with his phone held to his ear, his low voice carrying.

“Yeah, Sen, I’ll be there in about an hour. Which ward is Dee in?”

 

* * *

 

Judy curled her toes over the edge of the steps in front of her as she waited for her capricious appetite to return.

Something clinked. Her ears lifted to seek the source and she followed them across to grey feet beside her, legs reaching up under aquamarine blue fabric.

Judy laid her sunhat aside and looked up. 

“Vi.”

Her sister was carrying a wooden tray braced in both paws, eying the space next to Judy with concern.

“Can I sit?” Violet lifted the tray a little.

Judy quietly made room and Violet stepped down into the yard. She turned to set down the tray, and then swept a paw around to gather her skirt. With bent knees she sat lightly on the step beside her sister. She shifted for her comfort.

Judy looked across to see what was on the tray Violet had set down. There was cutlery and a small bowl filled with leaves, shaved root vegetables and a sharp, sweet scent. Judy counted two plates beneath and two beading glasses of water.

“Mom thinks you should eat,” Violet said, watching the breeze sway the grass.

“ _I_  think you should eat,” she added into the silence, rubbing and pressing at the palm of her paw with the thumb of the other while Judy clutched her knees. 

Finally, Judy took a breath and shifted over obliquely, examining the contents of the bowl. Her hunger returned as her body protested and urged her on.

She reached out a paw. There was a slightest hesitation before she dipped and plucked a ribbon of orange from the bowl. She crunched slowly and delicately.

“Mom kept this back for you. Some of Tori’s produce,” said Violet, pointing a claw at the bowl. “I think Tori’s looking for feedback.” 

A tiny lift of Judy’s muzzle reciprocated, tugging at the corner of her mouth as she reached to pick up a fork. 

“Sure,” Judy said, tumbling a scatter of leaves and shavings onto white enamel. The sisters sat and ate, listening to the breeze and the chatter of other rabbits around them in the cooling evening.

“Mom spoke to me,” said Violet finally, chasing scraps slowly around her own plate.

Judy nibbled, breathing softly as she did so. 

“Moving to Zootropolis, becoming a police officer — it was all you ever wanted to do,” Violet continued quietly. “Ever since we were kits.”

Judy didn’t reply.

Violet’s brow creased.

Judy scraped idly at her empty plate.

“We’re worried about you,” Violet ventured. “Please, Judy?”

“It was my first case, Vi. I was  _so_  happy that night, you know? I’d finally done it.” Judy inspected the palm of her paw. “Proved to them I was a real cop.”

“I remember,” said Violet. 

Her mother and father had tried several times to place a call to Judy that very evening. The first time it dialled once before it was cancelled. The next time, it just went to straight to voicemail. And the next. And the next.

Violet had been restless after that, but was making her way to bed when the phone had begun to suddenly trill eagerly. 

Her ears had perked and pivoted as she heard her Judy’s name mentioned and had descended the stairs to stand stiffly listening. When the call ended, Bonnie, with eyes closed, had held the edge of the phone to her muzzle, turned to her daughter with the most expectant smile and told her all she knew. Relief had shot through Violet, from her ear-tips to her toes.

Judy sighed. “My boss, well, because  _I’d_  cracked the case, he asked me to give a police statement,” she continued. “I had to talk to the press,” Judy clarified for her sister.

She looked at her feet before she gathering the courage to turn and look at Violet. “Did you see that?” she asked with palpable regret. 

The crease of her sisters muzzle told Judy she had. 

“A little,” Violet said.

“And you’ve seen the news each day since,“ Judy leant her weight upon the flats of her paws. She breathed in and it shook her, catching in her chest as a single hiccup. A moment later and she was composed again, settling back into her low posture, eyes closed. 

Violet shifted to face Judy. “But, you  _found_  those missing mammals, Judy, the ones that had gone savage,” she said with encouraging paws held at her knees. “And they’re getting help now, aren’t they? That’ll help others?”

Judy frowned. “I don’t know.” She toyed with the hem of her shirt.

“No-one really knows what’s making predators go savage, Vi,” said Judy. “But everyone thinks they do now, because of me.”

“This dumb bunny,” she whispered through her small mouth.

 

* * *

 

It had been a busy evening, the summer sun slanting in through the vaulted glass of the Savannah Central Station, dappled and bright upon the concourses. 

“ _We apologise for the delay. This is due to slow running trains on the Zootropolis Loop,_ ” reminded the tannoy. Passengers had shifted and sighed, looked at watches, checked phones.

The carriage rocked as an elephant boarded. She had to put her weight on the paw-hold to steady herself, and once settled, she rested her chin on her upper arm to watch the world beyond the doors, eyes picking out every splash of green, every smudge of orange.

She’d tried to find him, to work things out, to make it okay again. She’d had to try. After all, he was her friend. 

She grizzled.  _Had been_  her friend. She felt the carriage rock again and huffed. 

“ _Stand clear of the doors please, stand clear,_ ” cautioned the tannoy over the trilling warning beeps all along the carriage. Ears throughout the carriage flicked and lifted. Judy’s rose only fractionally.

All those things they’d achieved  _together_ , she’d managed to strip it all away in a heartbeat. Perhaps she didn’t deserve to find him. 

The doors of the subway car closed softly and all she had seen was her own ghostly reflection standing there, whilst mammals moved around her beyond the glass.

 

* * *

 

Violet sat next to Judy, saying little in the orange glow the porch light. 

The sun had clipped and tucked against the treeline, a show of gold and green and the deepest blue until it passed below and only the highest clouds were illuminated like sheets of pearl above the western curve.

Judy had begun to gather her shirt up close about her as she leaned into her sister’s shoulder in the dimness.

Violet had not known her sister to be so guarded about anything in her life. Judy’s deep-seated drive for change, for improvement, that desire to be something more — she had paraded all that since childhood. Everything was there to see, brash and uncompromising.

But the decision to give it all up, she had kept close like a shameful secret. Once disclosed, she thought Judy might have felt some relief.

And yet Violet felt there something else unspoken. It was in Judy’s shoulders, in her breathing. It made Violet’s nose twitch and whatever it was, Judy was holding it far closer and far  _tighter_.

Judy brushed the heel of her paw across her cheek, the cuff of her shirt grasped in her palm. She exhaled nasally, looking down at her lap. She dropped her paws there, palms toward her. “What a mess.  _I’m_  a mess.” She huffed a thin laugh. 

“ _I_  made such a  _mess_ ,” Judy gripped her hem. Violet brought her paw up and brushed it behind Judy’s head soothingly.

She didn’t know what more she could offer.

Judy leant a little against Violet’s paw, eyes dimly scanning the horizon. She couldn’t see the notch now, but it was there, far in the north-east. 

_The place he was hiding._

Judy drew a breath that pulled her shoulders up.

_Hurting._

She settled a little closer to Violet, against her support and her safety. 

_Two hundred and eleven miles away now._

“How can I leave it like this?” Judy said.

_What did he have?_

“What do I do now?” Judy asked.

_Would he be safe?_

“What you always do,” Violet said.

Violet pushed her spectacles up her muzzle and held her paw out for her sister. Judy looked at her own feet. Violet was resolute. Judy slowly closed her eyes and, taking her sister’s paw tightly in hers, they both rose as best they could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. 
> 
> It got quite long and I was tempted to post it in two parts, but in the end, I decided to hold off until I’d written and edited the whole thing.
> 
> It was pretty exhausting to write, and challenging to try and leave the characters in the right place ready for the farm shop scene and later bridge scene, but I hope it’s a good conclusion to this sub-story.
> 
> Whilst this work started as a collection set after Judy’s resignation up to her return, I think I’m going to carry it on with a couple of other in-between-scenes when Judy is back in the city, with updates when I'm able. As with the the previous characters and scenes covered here, I’ll try and keep them in-universe. Any AU will appear in another collection.


	11. Letting it Go

“Judy, honey?”

Judy’s ears lifted and rotated towards her mother’s voice. Bonnie stood in the grass at the edge of the yard. Behind her, a group of kits were being shepherded indoors from their rough-and-tumble. 

Fur was tousled, clothes were pulled loosely around shoulders and burrs stuck all over as the little troupe wandered through the grass back to the stoop where Judy sat. Their parents and cousins tut-tutted at the state of them.

“Mom,” said Judy, lightly. She closed the notebook she held in her paws, softly running a thumb down the edge of the cover. She leant across her thighs.

“Supper’s almost ready,” Bonnie said, blinking in the warm evening sun. Judy looked deep in thought as she sat in the shade, although the line of her ears still drooped downward at an angle that made her mother’s nose twitch.

The kits thumped slowly up the steps, led away to wash before they would be allowed to eat. Judy watched them pass her, one by one.

“Did you speak to your father?” Bonnie asked. It was just the two of them now.

Judy tightened her lips and looked up. “I did, Mom,” she said. 

Bonnie smiled encouragingly, although the wrinkle in her brow was still there from the glare of the sun.

“Come get some supper, huh?” she asked.

“I will, Mom”

“Okay, Bun-bun.”

Bonnie’s feet were soft as she stepped up and walked towards the back door of the warren. She propped it open, screen door and all.

Judy ran a paw over through her headfur and along one ear before rose and ventured indoors.

 

* * *

 

Evenings were always busy in the dining area of the Hopps Family warren, and the night before the weekend was one of the busiest of the week.

Rabbits to-ed and fro-ed around the counters of food, emptying up from various bowls and hotplates their appetites and filling the vaulted hall of the dining area with their conversation.

The kitchen doors flapped open nearby, and brief, sweet, earthy aromas escaped into the room. Rabbits on kitchen duty bobbed and wove as they worked to keep the counters stocked for their hungry brothers, sisters and cousins. The kitchen doors would swing again to disclose the organised chaos and steamy ranges beyond.

The hall proper was alive with voices of all volume and cadence as rabbits gathered together to recount their day. They talked of work on the farm, or in the warren, or of their work in Bunnyburrow town.

Judy ate her meal with one paw and little attention. Her crunching slowed, her lips mid-roll as she glanced down and wrote something in the little notepad she had taken to keeping at her side. She re-read, her pen poised as she swallowed her food. With a shake of her head, she hurriedly scribbled out what she had written and held her head up with a huff.

“Can I sit with you?” asked Violet.

Judy glanced back across her shoulder. “Oh, sure, Vi.” 

“Here,” Judy closed her notepad. She rested a paw on top of it for a moment, before moving aside for her sister.

Violet settled her plate and cutlery before she stepped round to sit. Judy continued to quietly chew her food, looking at the closed notebook.

“Now, look,  _don’t_  spill your food!” implored an exasperated female voice.

Violet’s ears went up first. “Look at  _that_ ,” Daisy scolded as she balanced plates nearby. 

There was a dashing thump of feet from behind as a rambunctious pair of kits ran ahead to try claim the best seat at the far table. 

“Laurel! Leon!” Daisy warned. “ _Will_  you slow down! Bunnies are trying to eat, y’know.”

Judy felt a bump as Laurel brushed past. Her nose twitched, and seeing this, Daisy smiled a quick apology whilst endeavouring to keep another pair of kits close, although they clung closer to Daisy and seemed less inclined to run ahead.

“Paws full tonight, huh?” said Violet, peering over the top of her spectacles.

“Yeah, Anna got called in. Out of hours, again.”

Judy twisted and saw two pairs of eyes blinking up at her, close to Daisy’s hips. They belonged to the quieter half of Anna’s litter, sullen and missing their mother.

“That’s twice this week,” said Violet.

“I know,” sighed Daisy. “I said I’d look after them.”

Violet indicated for Daisy’s benefit that the more eager of the kits had begun jostling competitively for position at the table. Daisy widened her eyes in alarm, and with a shake of her head left Judy and Violet to their meal.

“Laurel, just  _let_  your brother sit there.” Daisy chided. 

Violet smiled pleasantly and adjusted her spectacles. She noticed Judy was looking across her, over to the little argument about seating arrangements a table over.

“We can move, if—” Violet began.

Judy swallowed her mouthful of food. “No, it’s okay, Vi,” said Judy The corner of her mouth pulled. It wasn’t much of a smile, but it satisfied Violet and she sat next to her sister.

Before long Manny, Megan, Ray and Randall had turned up with their own meals and asked if they might sit. Violet looked to Judy for a moment.

“Sure guys,” Judy said, “You go ahead.” She gestured a paw.

Ray crunched eagerly, even before he was seated. “These fritters are really  _something_ ,” he said.

“It’s Morgan’s first day in charge of the menu,” Megan said with a smile. “He’ll be glad to hear that.”

“Complements to the chef,” Ray grinned. Megan smiled, full of sisterly pride. 

“So, how’s everyone?” Megan asked breezily around the table. There were nods, raised eyebrows and little pouts. Judy shrugged her own slight ambivalence along with them. 

“Glad it’s the weekend, eh?” she said, popping a morsel into her mouth.

“Almost done with the latest harvest, Meg,” said Manny, as the conversation began to circle the little group.

“Only,” Randall tapped his claws on the table. The group’s ears twitched, even Judy’s. “The grader broke down again,” said Randall, his mouth a sloping downward curve.

Judy sipped her water, half listening to a conversation she’d had much earlier in the day.

*

_“I had something to I wanted to ask, Dad.” Judy twisted a foot awkwardly into the dust after she had interrupted Stu near the old long barn._

*

“Ugh, that grader,” huffed Manny. He sucked his buck-teeth. “We’ve got to drop by Earl’s in the morning, Ray,” he said. “See if he’s got those parts in.”

Judy held her paws.

*

_“Honey,” Stu began._

_“Dad,” Judy said. She didn’t look away. “I have to.”_

*

“I’m heading into town in the morning,” breezed Megan. “The kits have been pestering to see that movie again.”

“Hey, I know —  _car pool_ ,” Ray suggested, his paws held in the air. “Right, Vi?”

Violet twitched her nose and pushed her spectacles into place. “That’s what I’ve been saying, Ray.”

Judy was looking at the gaps between paws, between plates.

*

_“You’re sure?” Stu had asked._

_“I’m sure,” Judy had let it out in a single breath._

*

“How about you, Judy?” asked Megan.

Judy blinked.

“How was your day?” Megan asked again, smiling. Her brow wrinkled a little.

Judy made a little grizzling noise as she turned to her siblings, eyes back on the here and now.

“There she is.” Megan’s smile was crooked now.

Judy was noncommittal. “Fine,” she shrugged.

“Won’t you be heading back to work soon?” asked Randall. Judy drew her ears back, flinching as if hurt. Manny and Ray exchanged looks and Megan leant back, resting a delicate paw on the edge of the table.

Violet’s nose twitched.

Judy squirmed.

They’d all sensed something in Judy over the last few days, but it had taken time to reveal itself.  _She was just tired_ , they had thought at first, I mean, who wouldn’t be? It was a busy, dangerous time to be a police officer.

Little by little though, it came through in the things she said and did, and more noticeably in the things she didn’t.

The Judy sat before them now was not the one who had bounded through the hall that bright morning only months before, wishing everyone well before she set forth to Zootropolis.

Judy chanced a glance at Violet, who was already looking at her with careful concern. Her lips were parted, ready to help.

But, she let Judy take the first step. The forlorn grey rabbit took a breath, and soon that little gathering knew that their sister, now a former police officer was going to be their sister, the carrot farmer.

 

* * *

 

Across the hall, Bonnie and Stu sat together finishing their own meal. Stu was idly reading some paperwork, resting folded next to him on the table. 

“Cripes, Bon,” he said, sifting through a summary of takings from the last trip to market.

“Blueberries were  _really_  selling this month.” His mouth hung open a little, and unable to take his eyes from the listings, he was instead sensing where his forkload of food might be. “I should let Gid know,” he added.

“What has I told you about business at the supper table, Stu,” Bonnie tut-tutted. She was quietly cooing to a grand-kit on her knee, mashing some carrot on a small plate beside her own.

“Did Judy speak to you today?” she asked, engaging the kit’s attention of with the little wooden forkful of carrot mash. The kit’s eyes followed happily as it swooped.

“Stu, honey?” she reminded. Stu looked up, his concentration broken. He dusted stray crumbs off the table-top.

“Did Judy speak to you?”

“Oh, sure she did, Bon.” 

The kit gurgled, chewing eagerly on a mouthful of orange.

“Well?” Bonnie asked, expectantly. She could see Judy across the room talking to a little group of her brothers and sisters.

“We talked, sure. I said we were happy to help her out, Bon, with the apartment and everything, but she outright refused.”

“Said she didn’t want any handouts.” Stu watched Bonnie prepare another workload of carrot while the kit reached out it’s paws.

“I offered her a job, Bon,” Stu said.

Bonnie stopped working the fork on the plate and looked to her husband. “She took it?” 

Stu nodded. Bonnie looked thoughtfully at her daughter across the hall. Neither spoke until the moment was interrupted by the kit pawing at Bonnie’s own. She made a  _shushing_  noise.

“She’s come home, hasn’t she,” Bonnie said quietly, although, when she looked up, she could see the line of Judy’s dropping ears one more as her daughter got to her feet and carried her food back to the kitchen. 

While Judy padded slowly out of the hall with her brothers and sisters watching, then turning to each other in hushed discussion, Bonnie knew that it wasn’t the homecoming that anyone had wished for.

 

* * *

 

Judy had wandered back to sit out on the stoop step, feet angled so as to hold her knees together. Her elbows were tucked back, and one paw held her pad of paper as it rested on her. She tapped a pen idly, her eyes far to the dim horizon.

There was no breeze, and so midges were able to dance in the warm light of the porch light as Judy stared back down at the pages in her paws.

“When do you start?” Manny was behind her. Judy’s ears lifted a touch.

“Tomorrow morning,” said Judy.

Manny stepped forward. The wood creaked behind her, and she was suddenly aware of other rabbits. Her nose twitched. Manny, Violet — she was there, of course, Ray then Megan. Daisy and Diane bobbed out and Maude nodded to Randall as held the door for them. Judy could scent the wood and the earth, the faint grease of diesel, mixing with cedar shavings and laundry powder on the quiet night air.

“I guess Dad probably gave you the whole speech again, didn’t he?” Randall held his paws to his chest, thumbs behind his own dungaree straps. “Carrot farming’s a  _noble profession_ , Judy,” he said in mock seriousness, mimicking his father. Megan laughed.

“Yeah, something like that,” said Judy. She closed her notebook.

“He uses that one ev- _ery_ summer,” said Megan, sweeping a paw. 

“Even uses it with the seasonal workers from town,” added Randall.

Judy lowered her eyes. “Well, this is going to be anything but temporary,” she said softly. “No going back.” She held onto her notepad that little bit tighter.

“You’ll find your feet again,” said Manny. He noticed how low and rounded his sister’s shoulders still were.

The little group of brothers and sisters were quiet as they gathered together on the old stoop.

At last, it was Ray who spoke up, about something mundane that made Megan laugh a little while Violet rolled her eyes. Judy managed a thin smile and the little group stayed together, talking under the porch light as the darkening summer sky spread all around them.

 

* * *

 

Judy knew she should be trying to sleep as she put her paws to her muzzle and  _breathed_  slowly.

In the city, the night-time hadn’t bothered her much at all. The adrenaline of her work had kept her going. But now, under the dark skies of home and a very different pace, she could feel that old tug of nature again.

“You did the right thing,” Violet said. “They were starting to wonder.”

Judy sat quietly examining her paws.

”Everyone knows how hard you worked, and what that job meant to you,” Violet continued. “They were going to find out.” 

“Yeah,” Judy picked at her claws. “That their sister, she messed everything up and made life a lot worse—” She trailed off.

“Judy,” Violet said.

“And now she’s back where she belongs, home to farm carrots.” Judy gave a shrug of resignation.

“Judy.” Violet didn’t move.

Judy made to pick up her notebook as she lifted herself up from the step. She brushed her ears back and began to cross to the wooden distance back into the warren.

Violet pushed her spectacles up and shifted quickly to draw her feet up beneath her on the wooden platform. As she knelt, ready to rise herself, her eyes were on Judy’s notebook.

“You’re still thinking about the case, aren’t you?” she asked, matter-of-fact.

Judy’s heart skipped a beat. Her muzzle wrinkled and she found herself pulling the notebook close to her chest.

“Judy, please don’t do this to yourself.” Violet’s paws fidgeted nervously at her lap.

Judy let hers fall by her sides.

 

* * *

 

The door to Judy’s box room pushed closed. She wanted to slide down the door and curl up, but nudged herself forward with a shoulder.

She stared at the little notebook in her paws as she sat upon the bed in her little box room. That book contained nothing but old thoughts and dead-ends. What good was it, really? It was nothing that wasn’t already in the case file, back at the ZPD and forever closed to her now.

Nothing that could help her.

To help him.

To help anyone.

Later, from her cool sheets she looked to that notepad lying on the pile of boxes near the door one last time before she drew the bed close, closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

 

* * *

 

The morning came soon enough.

“Okay,” Judy flexed her toes while she stood at the foot of the bed. She picked some clothes and walked from her room. She didn’t stop to look at the notebook.

In the washroom, she cleaned her fur, saying little.

She ate a meagre breakfast, drank her tea, and began her day.

Judy sat behind rows of neatly stacked produce with the whisper of the country in her ringing ears. There were whoops and cries of rabbits playing in the fields and only the occasional breezy whir of a passing car on the nearby road.

As she adjusted the brow of her sunhat, she could hear the gently curving shingle above her begin to creak in the warmth of the morning sun.

With her elbows on the countertop, Judy worked to drain a little of her water bottle. She smacked her lips at the warmth of it and replaced the cap, stowing the container back in the shade beneath the counter.

 _Hopps Family Farm_ , the colourful sign on the roof announced, the peeling surface freshly painted for the season.

A customer approached.

Judy took a breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and sorry for the wait. This was a tough, tough chapter, not least because I think I burnt out a little on the last part of _A House that is Safe_.
> 
> I wanted to look at the time just before the vegetable stall as a starting point for a short series, but it was really difficult to find a story there.
> 
> After about a week and a half of getting nowhere, I rewatched the vegetable stall scene and thought a particular spoken line suggested Judy had been thinking about the elements of the case the whole time, even after she had given up.
> 
> It’s a bit rough around the edges, but hopefully it was an enjoyable read.
> 
> I’m hoping to have a look at what might have happened on the two hundred miles back to the city and also Judy’s search for Nick as part of this sub-story, and I’m going to try and keep a roughly fortnightly schedule on this as I start my next project.


	12. What I've been Missing, Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title, _What I’ve been Missing_ , felt a better fit for this particular story, so I’ve revised the title for the previous chapter - apologies if this has causes any confusion.
> 
> Many thanks to she_dies_at_the_end for helping out and giving a plot suggestion for Judy’s search.

The cedar trees swayed gently in the breeze, full of the sound of summer rain working its way down to the ground. A thin asphalt track parted them, while gravels and earth had washed through from under their cover to form drifts that crept out at intervals.

Through the quietly creaking damp came a powder-blue pickup truck. Various farm tools rattled in their fixtures whilst its engine clattered from overwork. A rooster-tail of spray rose from the rear and the grit ticked across the roadway as it passed by.

Judy Hopps nudged at the accelerator, giving the truck enough encouragement to climb the gradient. Her ears were buffeted by the wind, swirling through the open window and her face was scrunched in concentration.

Night howlers, she thought. 

 _Night howlers_. That was it. 

It was the  _flowers_.

She recalled her first encounter with the blooms, when Chief Bogo had torn that wide strip off her, only moments after she’d proudly hauled in the petty thief Weasleton and booked him for stealing from the florist in Haymarket.

“ _But, to be fair, you did stop a master criminal from stealing two dozen mouldy onions._ ” 

He had said that with such _dryness_. How small he had made her feel, and how frustrated she had been at his dismissal of her evidence.

She had tried to assert that no, actually, those  _weren’t_  onions, they were flower bulbs. For a crocus varietal;  _Midnicampum Holicithias_  — a class C botanical.

 _”Shut your_  tiny  _mouth, now!”_

Bogo’s voice had struck and rung in her ears like a nearby thunderclap. Judy pinched her lips back and tightened her grip on the steering wheel. 

 _Midnicampum Holicithias_  — she sucked at her teeth —  _night howlers_ , they were being stolen, and if they were being stolen, perhaps they were being fenced, supplied? To be —

What? She tapped a claw on hard plastic.

The truck cleared the incline, and the view suddenly opened up ahead of Judy. Across the deep clear-blue depths of the Zootropolis Sound, the city itself stood The size of it all, the scope of it, it was still enough to draw a breath from her and make her eyes widen at the spectacle. 

It looked bright, bejewelled and majestic, as the tightly packed spires at the core of the city sparkled in the sun. 

She blinked it away.

Her last months as a police officer had shown her how little of that was true, and it ached at her centre.

She grizzled knowing how much of it was her fault, but there was something…she’d been asked if  _predators_  were the only ones going savage.

And that what it had _appeared_ to be. But then, if Uncle Terry — if a bunny could go savage, then night howlers could affect anyone, predators  _and_  prey alike, so what—

What if…

Judy felt a twist in her middle.

…They were being used  _against_  predators somehow, to  _make_  them go savage?

“Oh,” she said, gravely. Her ears flattened back in the breeze as she felt the gravity of her realisation. The thought of it sank and turned her stomach over. 

 

* * *

 

Judy pulled smartly into the mid-scale parking bay by the roadside. It served a short line of shops and was, thankfully for her, on an unmetered stretch within the city.

She walked a lazy arc, stretching the long journey out of her legs before rolling her lips thickly against the dry city heat. She had food in the truck — a box of produce that had sat uneaten alongside her the whole journey — but what she really needed was  _water_. 

Judy crossed the pavement towards the narrow convenience store nearby. She stepped quietly through the heavily panelled door. 

Ducking her head around, she couldn’t see the clerk. There didn’t seem to be a great deal of stock on the shelves. Most of it was still wrapped on pallets, or in boxes set to one side. She made straight for the chiller, and stood for a moment, letting the cool draught fall over her from out of the tall cabinet before picking a bottle, and padding up to the counter. 

She ran a paw over various guidebooks that lined the shelf beneath it.  _Zootropolis Street Atlas_ , said one cover.  _All Districts_. She thumbed at the corner of it for a moment, the line of her jaw twitching beneath her fur. 

The clerk, a slender leopard cat, appeared smoothly from the back store. Judy snatched the thick booklet up. The clerk noted her presence with tucked ears and diminished smile. 

Judy laid the book and water on the counter while the cat shifted cautiously behind the plastic screen that separated the two mammals. The cat reached out awkwardly to price-check the water and atlas.

Judy folded out the last of her bills, and noticed how fresh the fittings around the plastic screen looked, as the cat pushed the change back to her. They drew back quickly as Judy reached a paw up to claim it and turning uncomfortably to leave with the purchases. She noticed the cracked glass in the door now. It had been hidden by the wood panels she had seen outside.

Whilst she tried to settle back into the cab of the truck, Judy drew some water, making the flimsy plastic of the bottle crack and pop in her eagerness. She spent a short time rubbing out the tension in her neck, before bringing her paw forward to prop her head. With a fidgeting, she leant into her paw, curling it under her muzzle. She breathed deeply and huffed out through the gaps between her fingers. 

Even after leading the ZPD to Cliffside Asylum and unmasking Leodore Lionheart as the perpetrator of the missing mammal kidnappings, she hadn’t exactly managed to get the Chief’s full attention. He had been just as gruff and unapproachable in those first few weeks, and although, perhaps, he had softened, he could still be hard on her when questioned things.

“ _First, biology,_ ” he’d begin.

“ _Now_ , flowers _._ ” He would be weighing her words with his hooves.

And then, the Chief would cross his arms. “ _What next, Hopps?_ ”

She rubbed the corner of her eye as she began to consider speaking to Mayor Bellwether. She’d always been there to help Judy at every turn, always just a call away. Perhaps she could—

 _ugh_.

She needed more evidence. And, for that she’d need help. She’d need —

She’d need Nick.

Judy curled her toes in the footwell and shifted as if to move from some unseen discomfort upon her seat.

Nick knew about the case, as much as she did. If she could find him, they might be able to find the evidence, find _something_ to take to Mayor Bellwether. 

Mayor Bellwether would know what to do. It was her city now, after all.

Judy chewed at a claw. 

Nick knew what was at stake. Nick knew, but—

There was that look on his face again, the one that had broken across him that morning.

Quietly, she followed the line of tension in his jaws and the sharpness in his eyes as everything unravelled about her, until finally she found herself there again, in front of him with her one paw raised high braced to keep Nick away, and the other ready to draw her repellent.

His face would change then. The sharpness would go into him, and a calm clarity would build up around him before he walked away from her, not once looking back.

Judy closed her eyes. Her lips moved soundlessly beneath her fingers.

He  _had_  to know what the night howlers really were, and what that might mean. Whether he would want to hear it from her, she could only wonder.

Judy dropped her paw to her lap and picked up her street atlas. Unfolding it, she placed it on the seat close beside her. She tapped out the creases and searched for a familiar place to begin.

With the route in her mind now, Judy started the engine and pulled out into the traffic. As she re-joined the flow, she snapped on the radio hoping it would help keep her thoughts at bay, and her head clear enough to keep going.

 

* * *

 

The music on the radio was bright, spilling summer from the tiny speakers in the cab. 

She wrinkled her nose, and glanced quickly down at the street atlas folded out on her knees. The paper stirred and shifted in the breeze from the open windows, but it wasn’t cooling. The heavy air was blowing in from across Sahara Square, falloff dust and hot enough to melt a dozen giant Jumbo Pops.

“Palm District.” Judy tapped the map with a claw. 

The music faded down, and the DJ engaged in some conversation that took them all the way up to the news.

The traffic was beginning to bunch tightly up near the Rattan Crossing, over the Lion’s Tail. The toll bridges were always pinch points, but there was something…

She dabbed her toes tentatively upon the brake, cautiously building some space between her and the vehicles ahead.

Her nose twitched at the urgency in the newsreader’s voice as they spoke. She reached out and nudged up the volume dial with a curl of finger.

“ _As you join us, reports are coming in of a savage mammal in the Palm District—_ ”

Judy’s mouth suddenly popped open, her ears strained upright, and the heat in the cab seemed to intensify ten-fold.

Oh,  _sweet peas_ —

—What?

The Palm District… No, it—

_“—citizens are advised to be stay away from—”_

That was where Nick might—

What—

She knew that the ZPD would be on their way, working to block the roads, and she couldn’t—

Her ears fell sharply.

— What if he was

She swallowed.

— There? What if it was —

She caught a glimpse, a flicker of blue and red, far down the jagged avenue of vehicles behind her. The rise and fall of whooping sirens began to echo thinly off the buildings, out of phase and disjointed with no vegetation to soften them.

What if it was  _Nick?_

Judy snapped on a signal to respond, and moved quickly to make the turn for a narrow branching alleyway that, though unfamiliar, looked as if it might lead to another way over the borough line between her, and what she was looking for.

She scrabbled grimly at the pedals, one paw on the steering, the other gripping at the pages of her street atlas.

 

* * *

 

Judy sat screwed up tightly on the door sill of the parked pickup.

One wrong turn in the heat of the moment was all it took, and she had ended up on the opposite side of the Palm District. She had her paws up, claw tips working at her forehead. The street atlas was thrown in the dust at her feet, the spayed pages twitching in the hot breeze.

 _“—we can confirm that the mammal involved was a hyena—”_ the radio in the pickup calmly certified.

“It’s not him,” she said quietly to herself.

Her breathing slowed. The district road was quiet. There were sirens in the distance, perhaps a block, or even another district away by now, but headed north.

_“—ZPD have released no further details, but urge mammals in the immediate area to remain calm—”_

Judy’s paws trembled as she lifted them away from her stinging eyes.

“ _—the hyena has been taken into protective—_ ”

It wasn’t Nick, but—

“ _—as a precaution, the ZPD will be maintaining a presence—_ ”

She made fists over her mouth. Someone had done this, she thought, and someone else was suffering. 

Judy unwrapped herself and let her paws fall across her knees, before leaning to stoop and retrieve the crumpled street atlas. She held it in both her paws, fidgeting at the creases and folds.

With a heavy sigh, she took her bearings and plotted her route forward. The road she was on, that would take her north, and as she followed the road with her claw, she’d arrive at Hyenahurst, and then,  _oh_.

Judy felt her ears fall.

The Palm District was close to Hyenahurst. There’d just been a savage hyena reported and even with a visible presence from the ZPD, it wouldn’t take much to spark the gap.

With her paws limp at her sides, she stepped around on a broken loop, digging her toes into the dirt.

She’d been around most of the city now, and hadn’t found the slightest hint of Nick anywhere.

She hadn’t eaten, still, and had no idea how much money she had left. There were still no real leads, and soon the thick heat of the evening would upon her.

She was running out of energy, out of resources, out of time. There were only a few places left that could think to look for him, and then what?

She began to trace the outline of her phone in her pocket.

_baNG_

Judy’s ears almost knocked her sunhat clear off her head as they thrust forward towards the sharp sound. She quickly flustered a paw up to move the brim away from her eyes. She hunted for the source of the sudden report, her nose twitching in alarm.

She saw silhouettes of vehicles that sought to cross the intersection in the shimmering distance, and it took her a moment through the haze of summer heat to begin to recognise the shape of one, it’s familiar two-tone sienna colour scheme, and as it made it’s turn, the mural on the side panel that marked it out.

_BANG_

A haze of burnt oil spat from the vehicles exhaust, before it quickly slipped up a side street.

_BAng_

Judy sprang up to meet her ears. Clambering into the pickup, she closed the door behind her and pulled on her seatbelt. She ran a claw beneath it to ease out the slack.

She started the engine, and pulled out in swift pursuit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.
> 
> Whilst it's more likely that Judy would have gone straight to Finnick rather than hunting the city for Nick because she can easily identify Finnick's van, I thought I’d try and use the time to explore some things Judy might have been thinking about while she was returning to the city.
> 
> I’m looking at Judy’s possible conversation with Finnick in the next part, and will try and keep to the same roughly-a-fortnight schedule, just in case I run into the same struggles I had with the previous few chapters. I'm also trying to give a little more thinking time to the _All the Colours Between Us_ timeline.


	13. What I've been Missing, Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks again to she_dies_at_the_end for their greatly appreciated help and suggestions for this chapter.

Finnick guided his van down the little alleyway. Rolling to a gradual stop, he let its engine idle. Music echoed off the adobe brick walls rising up on either side of him. The dashboard buzzed faintly in time to the beat.

He growled, shifting a little in his seat. 

On his way back here, he’d passed by a number of ZPD prowlers that had been travelling in lazy circuits through Hyenahurst and seen far more high-vis on the streets than was usual.

Trouble brewing, he thought.

He snapped off the radio and stopped the engine with an abrupt twist of the keys. He gathered the bunch up in his paws, and stuffed them away for safekeeping.

His ears twitched backwards in the silence. He sank back.

Huffing, he turned to glare into the side mirror. A little pickup had been following him; a powder-blue thing he thought had been matching his turns. He tapped the steering wheel with a claw as he kept his eyes fixed on the reflection of the street behind.

Maybe it had been nothing?

He drew a sharp breath, pulling his feet up beneath him, teetering upon his makeshift seat-booster of books and boxes.

Turning quickly to spring through the hatch behind him, he scrabbled for purchase and pushed himself back into the box compartment of his van.

He landed upon a low box and using it as a makeshift step, he slid the hatch cover closed behind him. 

He dropped to the floor and padded around the square of carpet that lay there. Pausing to pick up his shed fur from the small salvaged couch in the corner and drop them into the air, he sat down. There was a creak as he leant forward, paws crossed over his knees.

Finnick had made the space in the van bearable. A lot of things were still in boxes, but he’d taken the time to hang posters, find a stereo, and place a little cluster of photographs — group shots of sunshine and of better days — on the wall nearby.

Suddenly his ears thrust upright, set quivering by a sound outside.

The sharp squeak of braking tyres, drawing abruptly to a halt.

He straightened his back slowly, following his ears upward. He tilted his head as he began to track the noises outside.

He could hear a door open, then close. The ticking of gravel on asphalt, and the rolling of bottles, brushed by a hesitant foot.

Silence. 

Finnick breathed quietly.

Then came the knocking on the door. His ears twitched forward. Although the knocking was quiet and soft, it was a pattern unfamiliar to him.

Keeping his eyes fixed on the door, he slipped a paw beside him to the couch and picked out a wooden bat from between the cushions with his claw tips.

Careful of the noise of couch springs settling, he rose up. He tightened his grip on the bat, stalking to the door. He rested his free paw upon the door catch, ready.

There was a single pair of soft, shifting feet outside.

His hackles rose, stiff and bristling. Predator  _or_  prey, he’d let them know he wasn’t to messed with. He hefted the bat and clenched his paw. He’d send them home yelping with their ears flat and tails tucked, make no mistake. 

He flung the door wide. Sunlight glinted off the polished chrome as it crashed open.

“Who is it?” he barked out into the thin air in front of him.

Wh-?

Even with the high ground, he was suddenly aware he’d left himself vulnerable, and as he looked down —

A rabbit?

Isn’t that —

Surprise lifted his eyebrows and pinned his ears back. 

Officer Hopps?

She looked tense in her plain-clothes. She pressed her paws together and looked up.

“I need to find Nick,” she said. “Please.” 

You’ve _got_ to be kidding, he thought.

A fresh anger began to rise, but an officer at the door made Finnick aware of the weight of the bat in his paw. He lowered them both. Judy glanced at the bat as he laid it on the floor of the van, but took no action. 

“I don’t have to talk to you,” Finnick growled. “I don’t  _want_  to talk to you," he snarled, louder now, as he swung a paw out to the open door, and made ready to close it.

“Oh, no, no no—” Judy stepped quickly forward as she realised his intent, standing inside the door’s arc. Finnick stayed his paw, unable to close it without trapping her.

Finnick glared, eyes full of scorn, “Take a step back,” he said. “And get out of here.” 

”Please, I need to talk to him,” Judy said, standing her ground.

”It’s about the night—“ She stopped, glancing quickly aside. She was so sure about the flowers,  _so sure_ , and yet… 

“About the  _case_ ,” she corrected. “The missing mammals case. I think I know what’s happening — I — I think I know what causing predators to go savage."

" _Hmf_ ,” Finnick looked out to the street behind her. “I think you already said something about that at your little press conference.”

“You messed up  _big time_ , Officer Hopps,” he said, stepping up to the door. “Now, I don’t care what kind of hustle—"

“Wait, I’m—“

“—you’re looking to pull this time, but—”

“Listen, please—“

"—I ain’t interested. I’ve only got two words for you—” 

Finnick’s lip curled further, muzzle wrinkling and exposing his upper teeth in a snarl as he made ready to bark his final insult.

“I’m not a  _cop_!” Judy exclaimed. Her paws were suddenly fists, taut and trembling. "I’m not a cop, not anymore.”

Finnick looked surprised at first, but slowly the trace of a smile began to deepen at the corners of his mouth. “They kicked you to the kerb, huh?” 

He snorted. “After everything the Mayor’s said about you, too.”

Judy’s brow wrinkled.

“Never saw that coming, have to admit.” Finnick shrugged. “What did you do?” he asked.

“I quit,” Judy said. Those small words still hurt her and she fought to hide it.

“Really.” Finnick had begun to lean on the closed door next to him. “Why?”

“I tried to be a good cop,” Judy paused. “And a good friend,” she added.

“But—” her words caught in her tightening throat, making her scowl. Her right paw hung at her hip. "I wasn’t either of those,” she managed. Finnick noticed her twitch her fingers, as if to draw them back from something painful. 

As Finnick watched her, Judy caught a glimpse into the dim interior of his van. The boxes and mismatched furniture behind him reminded her a little of her room, back in Bunnyburrow. Before she could linger further, he sensed her intrusion. He stiffened and began to growl.

Judy ran her paw across the back of her head and down the length of her ears. She kneaded the back of her neck. “I left the city.”

“I never thought I’d come back,” Judy looked at her feet. “I shut myself away. I tried to burrow away  _so deep_ , you know.” 

Finnick was quiet, although he continued to regard Judy with sharpened eyes.

Judy’s chest rose. “I’ve made life in this city a misery, for  _everyone_.” 

She gestured at the bat resting on the floor near to Finnick’s feet. 

“We shouldn’t have to live in fear like this,” she said. Finnick had followed her paw. 

“Hm,” Finnick said, lifting an eyebrow. “You quit, and now you’re taking matters into your own paws?” His eyes narrowed.

“I need evidence. I can’t go to the ZPD without it. Nick was with me, he knows the case as well as I do — that’s why I have to find him.”

“I’ve looked  _everywhere_. I don’t know anyone else.” Judy wrung her paws. “You’re the only one that can help me,  _please_ ” 

“Everywhere, huh?” Finnick casually ran his tongue along his teeth.

“Ok, let me tell you something." He pushed away from the door a little.

“Nick’s no saint, right? He’s done his fair share of sketchy things in his time, and that  _mouth_  he’s got on him? That gets him into as much trouble as it gets him out of. You say something to him, or do something, and he’ll just breeze right over it.” 

“Doesn’t let it get to him.” Finnick swung a flattened paw in front of him, chin held up an lips pinched. “Wouldn’t tell you if it did.”

Judy nodded solemnly.

“There’s things he’ll never talk about, though. I know better than to ask, but you can tell.” Finnick said.

She remembered when Nick had pulled away from her touch, that morning on the sky-tram. She swallowed dryly and it felt as if there was a stone in her stomach. 

He never let anyone see that they got him. He had told her that, and now she wondered, did she cause him so much pain that he’d never speak of her again? 

“Did he tell you?” Judy asked. “About me?”

“He told me enough,” Finnick said, frowning. 

“Then, you know where he is?” she asked.

“He’s been laid out for three months because of you. You’re a piece of work,“ Finnick scratched his muzzle. ”You know that?"

Judy looked hurt, but offered no challenge.

“You want to fix things in the city?” He huffed. “Good luck. That’s the least you can do. You want his help to do it? Sure, I get that.” Finnick glared at Judy, his large ears thrust forward.

“But, do you think you can just walk up and ask for it like that? After what you said?" Finnick began to growl again. “And what you did?” Finnick spat the words and crossed his arms.

Judy closed her eyes.

 _“Fox repellent?_ ” he continued, incredulous. “Were you seriously—” 

”I was a jerk,  _okay?”_ Judy snapped. “I thought he was, too, after the way he talked to me at first.”

Finnick scoffed.

“I dragged him all around Zootropolis with that stupid recording because I didn’t trust him to help. He had chances to leave me behind, but he didn’t, and when I needed help — when I needed  _him_  — he came forward and stood up for me. He was right  _there_ ,” Judy thrust out her left paw. ”He pushed me — he had every right to after the things I said.”

Finnick’s ear twitched. 

“I’m a jerk for not trusting him, and for  _ever_  doubting him,” Judy continued. “He’s a good mammal. Now, I need to stand up for him. He needs to know that he didn’t do anything wrong."

She took a breath. “I won’t leave him behind, and I can’t keep that from him,” she pulled her shoulders back and dug her toes into the dirt of alleyway.

“Can you?” she asked, glaring up at Finnick, her eyes red and hot. 

His ears fell. He lowered his paws slowly as he looked at Judy. She was almost on the verge of tears, gritting her teeth as she waited for his answer.

This felt so familiar to him now.

The clumsy, ill-considered words spoken in the heat of a precipitous moment that had driven Nick away from Hopps, the sense of failure once everything hard won and held dear had been undone?

He’d been there, and he’d done that. Check and  _check_.

He had stood upon a threshold once before, looking at a mammal wiping away the anger from her eye with the heel of her paw. She had screwed up her face and with one sharp glance stepped away into the cold winter sun.

He looked around him at everything that was still proving her right, even now.

It had been pride, or so he thought, that had kept him away from her little apartment. Years too late, he had recognised it as stubbornness, and as fear.

On the streets of Zootropolis, second chances were rare. But, Hopps was here, fighting for one just as stubbornly as Finnick had left his unclaimed.

And the only thing that stood in her way, Finnick knew, was him. 

“Nick,” he said quietly. “He’s at Weir and Culvert, out of town.”

There was silence, until finally Judy spoke up.

“Weir and Culvert,” she repeated. Her lips moved to sound it out once more, a silent commitment to memory.

“You know it?” he asked.

“I can find it,” she said. “Hu- how long ago?” 

“A few days, maybe. He doesn’t move around so much.”

Judy glanced away for a moment, open mouthed, her chest rising and falling. She looked back, her eyes softening a little.

“Thank you,” Judy said quietly. She held her paws up once more, clasped together tightly as affirmation. 

Finnick cleared his throat. “Hopps. Your case,” he growled. Judy put a foot behind her and rocked upon it. “You’ll solve it, and fix all this too. Right.” He raised his eyebrows, but it wasn’t a question. Judy nodded. 

With that, her ears rose behind her as she scurried away to her waiting vehicle.

Finnick watched her as she bounded across the asphalt and drove quickly away.

He’d wasted so many chances. But if he tried — like Hopps — perhaps, he could search out that second chance for himself.

He pulled the door of the van closed and squinted as the sun’s reflection flashed off the window, fierce and bright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to readers who've have been waiting for this for a while. 
> 
> This was a difficult chapter to write and I had endless trouble with it - partly because as a missing scene it’s had so many interpretations, but also because I also had a great deal of trouble getting to grips with Finnick’s motivation and how that might drive the dialogue. The proximity to the bridge scene made things a little tricky there, too.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thanks for reading.


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